Motherland
by Ky03elk
Summary: On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe
1. Chapter 1

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Motherland

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Chapter One

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_On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe._

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"Did you get the milk last night?" Kate slams the fridge door shut, the crash of the condiments in it silencing the three other members of her family. Great, so much for starting 1981 off on a different foot, and she squeezes the dishcloth, the water bleeding between her fingers.

_Чёрт возьми__!_

"Mom."

Her daughter's glare clashes with hers, the storm in Alexis' eyes turning her usual clear hazel into a murky mud, and the air within the room crackles, until the thirteen year old swings to look at her father. His tongue peeks out, his eyebrows wiggling, and the dark cloud recedes into the corner of the kitchen, their teenager flashing a grin, until the present situation appears to come crashing back down on her.

And Alexis shrinks into her chair.

Throwing the cloth toward the sink, Kate wipes her hands on her pants, her stride swallowing the space between them, and, reaching for the soft, brown curls that hang loose down her daughter's back, she sighs, expelling her irritation.

It works. To a degree.

"Rick? Any milk?" Considering who she is, how often she's forced to act as someone else, play a role, one would think she'd be better at pretending in front of her children, but last night's task had extended well past midnight, the bruise along her back now aching, and her charade cracks, the morning light streaming in.

"Sorry. I'll buy some after the kids get on the bus." His hands clap together, a short, sharp sound and she tightens her lips. Of course, he will. "Let's go guys. It'll be here in twenty. School waits for no one."

Dropping a kiss onto Alexis' forehead, she clings to her oldest, breathes in the scent that no longer lingers on her baby girl, and then taking an extra step to catch Jay as he dashes around her - why do ten year old boys move at such a pace? - she curls him into her body, her mouth finding his cheek.

"Eww. Gross, Mom."

"I have to go to work. But have a good day, okay?"

He darts from her grip, and she shrugs off the weight his rejection creates, crossing the kitchen for her car keys.

Halting her momentum, Rick's arm extends across her abdomen, his fingers bunching her sweater above her hip, his chest pressing hard into her shoulder, and he mimics the hold she'd had on Jay.

Right. She should kiss her husband farewell, too.

His lips are fleeting on her own, a brush that slides right past and she relaxes against his body - it's over in a second - before edging away. Only he chases after her, his head swooping down to the side of her face once more.

She should have known better after fifteen years.

His mouth makes a smacking noise, saliva coating her cheek, and she shoves him aside, the back of her hand swiping to clean the moisture he'd left behind.

"That's disgusting. I am raising three children here. Not two."

"It was kind of funny, Mom." Jay high fives his father, and she laughs - is the sound hollow to them too? - instead of rolling her eyes.

"Don't forget the milk this morning."

Work awaits; the center-appointed bookstore she manages with Rick, a façade that monopolizes her days, giving her - amongst other things: an income, flexible work hours - a cover to receive codes from Russia.

Damn, deciphering them sits first on her to do list this morning.

Although figuring out how to kill her next target also has to be checked off.

And Rick better remember to get the milk.

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"Mom, you forgot your coffee."

Alexis' call stops her by the car, and she turns, smiling at her daughter.

"That's okay, hon. It's black. I'd rather grab one on the way." Maybe she should run back into the house, ask Rick to get a latte for her when he eventually arrives… although, if he forgets that as well, she'll be livid _and_ without caffeine.

"Okay- Oh, new neighbors!"

Twisting, Kate eyes the house across from theirs. The white shutters shift in the wind, sunlight glittering off the windows for the first time in two weeks, the house appearing to shake off its desolation at being between residents.

And her heart trembles.

It's not the moving van that generates shockwaves through her system. Not the boy waving at them from across the street, a skateboard in his hand, pimples dusting his face.

What boils the blood within her veins, her breath coming and going in a wheeze, is the woman unloading a box from the back of a blue Chevy. Their stares meet for a moment before a gruff, "Helen!" sounds from inside the van, and the blond turns away.

Какого чёрта!

They've met before…

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She smoothed the wrinkle on her slacks again, but the blemish reappeared the moment she removed her hand, and Kate huffed quietly. She took pride in how she presented herself, how she wore the cover when on assignment. This annoyance had nothing to do with nervousness though. Her reputation preceded her within the KGB, her assignment in the States almost a year old, and she - and her partner - were becoming the go-to agents on the Upper East Coast.

Except tonight, something was… off.

"I'm sorry you had to wait." Thomas smiled wearily in her direction, his knees creaking as he reclined in the sofa opposite her, a noise such a contrast to his age, and she drummed the tips of her fingers against the material at her thigh. What was supposed to be a get in and get out job was taking far too long.

"No, I am the one who's sorry." Kate stood, picking up one of the many throw pillows that dotted the couch and with a fluency that had been drilled into her at training, she slipped her weapon from where she'd concealed it within her oversized handbag.

With the pillow in front of the gun, she shot twice in quick succession, the sound muffled. Whether the noise was heard didn't matter, she wasn't hanging around to meet any witnesses; she'd taken out the target that had been assigned to her.

Her job was complete.

Tossing the pillow in the direction of the body, she stalked toward the entrance. It wasn't that she didn't feel anything, quite the opposite. God only knew how long she would stand in the shower tonight scrubbing at her skin until the raw pain erased the memory of what she'd done, but this was her life. This was what her country needed from her.

And after what had happened… she would do anything to protect her people. Protect Russia. Do whatever was required from her in the name of the Motherland against her enemies. Against America.

She reached for the front door knob - she was going to need new leather gloves, that small tear along one seam would no doubt extend quickly - when a whimper, barely a sob, broke through the hallway, and Kate stopped, her body motionless as she strained to hear the noise again.

"Oh, god."

Spinning, she snatched at her gun, the strawberry red wig obscuring her vision, before the strands settled on her shoulders and she saw where the whispered prayer had originated.

There, crouched in the angle of two walls was a woman, a heavily pregnant, blond woman, tears streaming down her cheeks, as her lips moved in an almost silent plea.

"Don't kill my baby. Don't kill my baby."

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She scrubbed at her forearms before alternating the sponge down and between all ten fingers, and with a ferocity that scraped at her flesh, she washed away the non-existent blood that coated her hands.

"_Please. Please don't kill my baby."_

The cry from the woman who had huddled in the corner continued, and Kate closed her eyes on the image. She couldn't close her mind from the sound though, and the chant started from the beginning.

"_Oh, god. Don't kill my baby. Don't kill my baby."_

Had her own mother pleaded for her life? Had her mother crouched in an alleyway not far from the Belorussky Railway Station in Russia and begged to hold her daughter just one more time?

Had-

"Katya?"

Spinning, she glared at Rick. His exasperation settled in the lines of his face as he peered around the shower curtain, and she retorted in turn, her irritation just as high.

"Don't call me that." There were rules, strict rules, and she had left that name behind the second she'd boarded a plane for the States. It was a mistake, a moment of weakness, that had her confiding in Rick the first week of their arranged marriage. The pressure to be all that she could be as an agent had snowballed with trying to be a happy and in love American couple, and she'd fallen apart one night in his hesitant embrace.

"Sorry, but you weren't responding. I thought maybe you'd drowned in there."

Rolling her eyes, she snapped off the water, and with her shoulders squared, Kate narrowed her eyes as she pushed past him.

"You can't drown in a shower."

"The FBI agent we caught last month would beg to differ." Oh, well. Yes, he had a point. With assistance, a person could indeed drown in a shower. "And speaking of, did tonight go according to plan?"

"_Please. Please, don't kill my baby."_

She stared into the mirror above the vanity, her eyes examining her reflection for any telltale signs, but nothing marred her skin, no words of shame slashed across her forehead. Nothing but black bags that screamed the need for more sleep and less worry.

"It went as… expected."

Rick's eyebrows lifted, his gaze flickering over her features - were the flaws in her façade large enough to spill her secret? - and shifting, he spooned her from behind.

"Good. I did a dead drop tonight. Saw Ivan afterwards."

Biting down on her tongue, she ignored how their handler had been brought into their conversation, but unfortunately her husband was like a dog with a bone when he set his mind to something.

"He said to say hi."

"I bet he did."

Rick's hand settled on her hip, his fingers depressing her flesh, before he edged them toward her belly button. Here it came.

"He wanted to know if we were trying for a baby yet."

"And?" And how the hell was she meant to do her job with a baby on the way? With a baby at home, waiting for her to return?

Or not.

"And I said we would work on it."

His teeth nipped the shell of her ear as his left hand skated higher, his right drifting down, fingers circling in slow loops, and her hips jutted forward without her permission.

Damn him.

"Will we now?"

She was supposed to become a mother, supposed to achieve the perfect cover, but as she closed her eyes, a low hum vibrating her chest, she knew that motherhood would make her soft. An easy target.

It already was.

After all, she'd lowered her gun, left the unknown woman sobbing in the house as she'd fled, hoping that her stupid, unprofessional choice wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass.

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"Katya?"

Twisting toward Rick's voice, she almost takes his nose off with her forehead. Somehow he has managed to creep up on her, whispering in her ear without her even realizing it.

That's a good way to end up dead.

"I said your name half a dozen times, but you didn't hear me once, did you?" His accusation is in conflict with the way his forehead crinkles, his fingers sliding across her cheek, and she shakes her head in response, swallowing the reprimand for using her- for saying that name.

"I'm sorry. I was…"

His mouth presses against the skin between her eyebrows and she lists into the sensation. She may not love him, isn't sanctioned to have those kinds of emotions, but there is something to be said for the familiarity of fifteen years together.

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

No. No, this is something far worse, it's not a ghost she's seen, although the blond woman does have the ability to haunt her.

She has the ability to destroy her.

Expose her for what she really is.

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So... back from my little hiatus. I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season and that this finds you well!

Updates will be every four days, just because I like routine, lol.

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I don't own Castle, or The Americans, clearly, but kudos to them for making my mind go nuts with the possibilities.

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Thank you to fooxoo for checking over my google Russian.

and

Thank you to my wonderful betas Jo (also for the amazing cover art) and Jamie, without you I wouldn't have the guts to publish, or the pompoms to keep going. All my love.

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

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Motherland

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Chapter Two

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_On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe._

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Kate reclines in her desk chair, the muscles of her back grumbling at the pressure, but like everything else this morning, she ignores the imposition, closing her eyes.

"_Don't kill my baby."_

She's never told anyone what occurred that night. The one and only time that her identity has been compromised, her job, her real one, witnessed by someone. And now…

What the hell does she do?

Packing up the house and moving her family seems to be her best option. But she's panicking, if only internally, and she knows there's no possibility of that happening. It's not like she can contact Suzanne, her current handler, and explain the situation.

"_Do you mind letting the Center know I fucked up a decade ago and now require a complete relocation."_

Yeah that will go over brilliantly, a bullet between her eyes no doubt their answer to her problem.

"Hey, Kate."

Jerking in her seat, she looks at her husband, at the takeaway cup of coffee on her desk. Oh, he bought her one on his way into work.

"Thank you." She heaves herself forward, taking the still warm drink between her palms.

When their children were babies, she had sat in the rocker, nursing and wondering if life were different, if she'd met Rick in another way, would she have fallen in love with him over time, would they be happy together? Normal people that dated and then married. Had a family when they were ready.

But her mantra every morning as she stares in the mirror has been the same since her first day of training. It had started the month after her mother had been murdered in a Moscow alleyway, caught in the cross fire of a secret American mission gone wrong.

_Stay strong__. __Resilient__. Independent. _

Depend on no one, because love is for the weak.

No wonder she'd done well within the KGB's academy. Loyalty to the Party and loyalty to the Motherland. They were the only things she held dear.

It's still true…

Most days.

"Are you sure everything is okay, Kate?"

Rick's always had the ability to see straight through her, observe the parts of her that she tries so hard to keep concealed, but he knows better than to voice what is there. It could cost them their lives if their enemies were to hear. Or worse, those back in Russia.

"Fine." She swallows a mouthful of coffee, her body singing already in its Pavlovian response. "Did they finish the display out the front? I want the books ready for tomorrow's release."

His gaze lingers for a beat longer than usual, and her breath catches before he shrugs, walking to his own desk.

"Yeah, they're almost done."

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"Did you want to head home? Give the kids a hand with their homework before dinner?"

Looking up from the numbers she's been slowly turning into letters, she stares at her husband before his words finally filter through the fog of deciphering.

"No. I have to finish these. And then I have to drive into the city."

Their newest target, Zubov, a former Department Two, Unit Two officer, who'd been tracked to the States last month, was hiding away in strip joints from what they'd discovered.

Perfect.

Not.

While some agents have a, 'by any means necessary' approach to getting their job done there's a line she won't cross, hasn't crossed. As far as she's concerned, it may take extra effort but she can complete her work without compromising her body. Besides when she's with her husband, that is.

And at least he's fucking good in bed.

"Okay then, I'm done here. Will you be home to eat?"

"Yeah. Just surveillance tonight. Do you want me to bring something home?"

Rick starts throwing papers into his briefcase, his head shaking in response.

"No, I'll cook. Meatballs sound good?"

Smiling, she nods before going back to the lines of numbers. Scarsdale is hardly cold compared to Russia, but a hearty, homemade meal could be just what she needs to get herself out of this funk.

"Sounds great."

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Closing the car door behind her, Kate pauses, her eyes slipping shut as a dusting of snow begins to fall onto her face. She'd spent two hours huddled in her car, watching Zubov, or watching Adam and Eve, the topless club he'd disappeared into.

She'd at least plotted a way to get him alone, has a plan sorted for Saturday night.

Opening her eyes, the warm glow from inside her house kicks her into gear, and she propels herself forward, her footsteps careful on the path. A broken neck is something she does not need.

"Do you enjoy school, Alexis?"

Kate stops short, her hand curled around the door handle. The female voice who'd asked the question is not one she recognizes, and she reaches behind her, searches for the gun that isn't tucked into her waist band.

блин_,__ she's an idiot__**!**_

Yanking open the front door, Kate stalks inside, only to halt after two strides, the sight of the blond in her kitchen freezing any further movement.

What the hell is she doing here?

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Kate's jaw hurts. The constant clench of a masked smile was not how she wanted to spend her evening. Either was looking across the dinner table at the woman who'd witnessed her kill a target.

It's too stressful.

Clearly.

At least Helen, her new neighbor and mother to a healthy fourteen year old boy - _"Please don't kill my baby."_ \- appears to have no idea who Kate was. Is. Their conversation over meatballs and vegetables flowed as freely as it could considering this was their first - second - encounter, and Helen's husband, John, helped this along, his sense of humor matching Rick's.

"Thank you for such a lovely evening. We were worried about starting again in a new state but you've all been so lovely." Helen grasps her hand, blond hair bouncing as the other woman divides her gaze between all four Castles until she stops at Rick.

"The pleasure was ours," he replies, and she's thankful for his words; her ability to be a gracious host is crumbling with each passing minute. "And Alexis would be happy to show Nick around at school on Monday." Her husband turns to their daughter. "Won't you, pumpkin?"

The color that flushes the younger girl's pale cheeks could put a tomato to shame, and Kate steps forward, half blocking Alexis from the others.

"Well, enjoy the extra day off tomorrow, Nick. And good luck with the unpacking. It's been great, but we'd better get ready for tomorrow. Fridays are always a hectic one."

She might not be subtle but Helen needs to leave. Now.

Kate needs another glass of wine. Or two.

Her new friend ushers the boys, young and old, toward the entranceway, clucking as John stops to remark about the house's extensive bookcases, and Kate moves to the front door, holding it open for them. The tension from the night begins to fall from her shoulders as they leave. The snow that has gathered on the eaves doing the same.

Plop. Plop.

"Thank you again, Kate." Helen angles away from her family as they make their way down the garden path, her cheerful expression settling into a static stare. "I- This sounds clichéd, but have we met? Before? Your face…"

Biting down on her tongue, Kate utilizes every control technique she's been taught, her fingers no doubt blanching white as she grips the door frame.

"No. No, I don't think so. I'm sure I'd remember if we did."

Fuck.

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She runs the razor along her already smooth legs, pressing down hard and blanching her skin white, pale streaks where she's pushing too hard. If she's not careful, she'll cut herself, blood exposed by the brittle metal blade.

Exposing...

Breathe, Kate. Just breathe.

She'd managed to help with the dinner clean up, get the kids settled for the night before scurrying into her bedroom. A hot bath and another glass of wine were enough to keep her mind occupied now, in a normal routine.

Liar.

Maybe she should grab the suitcase that's concealed in the garage, ready for a quick escape, and then disappear. Vanish so her family doesn't pay the price for her past stupidity.

The radio in their bedroom comes on, loud, its notes reaching her through the walls, and she curls her arms around her knees, placing her feet back in the cooling water as she closes her eyes. Prepares for what's about to happen.

"Tell me, Kate." Rick's hushed demand mixes with the singer's voice as she belts out 'Love will tear us apart' and Kate swallows the sob at the irony.

There's no love here to tear apart.

"There's nothing to tell."

She opens her eyes at his scoff. His arms are crossed over his chest, a hard edge to his glare - the Russian in him breaking through - and she stares back, attempts to wipe her features clear.

It doesn't work. Either that or he's mastered the art of reading through her bullshit.

"Tell me."

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Wrapping the towel around her chest, Kate leans against the counter, faces the doorway that leads into their room and Rick perches himself beside her, evidently ready to wait her out.

"Do you remember Aleksand- the Daniels?" she asks quietly, all too aware that she's crossing a line. A dangerous one.

"What does that-"

She narrows her eyes and Rick shuts his lips with a pop before nodding and answering. "Yes. He reported to the Center that Anna was becoming too Americanized. Her feelings were conflicted."

"And they took her home." She pauses as his head dips again in agreement. "Except she never made it back."

She'd held Jessica - Anna's sister and a fellow agent - in a public restroom one night, the girl's parents confirming the heart breaking news with a smuggled letter through unofficial channels.

Rick's mouth opens and she cuts him off with the shake of her head. They've both seen the consequences of crossing the Center, betraying the loyalty.

"Do you want to defect, Kate?"

Her grip on her towel drops, as does her jaw.

"No. No. I fucked up. A long time ago. And now…"

Now she's just shared a meal with the outcome of that idiocy.

"I don't understand. You're going to have to start from the beginning because I'm well and truly lost here."

Taking a deep breath, she readjusts the towel and attempts to buy herself some time. What is she meant to do? Blurt out her mistake like she's reading the shopping list?

"Just tell me, Kate."

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"And you heard what Helen said when she left. She has some memory, even if she hasn't put two and two together yet."

Peering up at Rick from where she's ended up balancing on the edge of the tub, a layer of goose-bumps prickling her exposed skin above the towel, Kate pauses, finally catching her breath after replaying what seems like her life story. Or at least her life's demise.

"Why didn't you tell me? Back then. You've kept this a secret for- shit, it's been fourteen years of silence, Kate."

That's what he's taking from this?

"Of course I kept silent! Did you miss the part where this bathroom conversation started with the cautionary tale of the Daniels? What did you expect me to do?"

Rick's mouth gapes like a fish, and she stands, pushing back her shoulders.

"We hadn't even been married a year. I had no idea if I could trust you. I still-"

She brings the tips of her fingers to her lips, prevents the rest of that statement from escaping, but it's too late.

"You have no idea if you can trust me? After being married for fifteen years, and with two kids together, you don't know if you can trust me?"

She expected anger, rage to slash through the air between them. It's not though, it's hurt. He's hurt.

"It was a long time ago, Rick."

"It was this morning. It was evasion over your morning coffee. Lies." His body slumps against the bathroom wall, and she fights the urge to reach for him. This isn't an argument they should even be having.

"It's what I am. It's what you are." Nothing about them is real, there's no room for the truth in their relationship.

His head lifts, his gaze finding hers, and there's a shadow that flickers across his expression. Something that she can't name, hasn't seen before.

"You're right. Of course."

She's not.

Not at all, but he's walking to the door, his back toward her, and she scrubs her palms over her face.

Well, this is a whole new level of пиздец_!_

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Thank you to all, and to the guests that I can't thank through PM, the support means so much.

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Big squeeze to Jo and Jamie for the beta and whips when I need it!

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

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Motherland

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Chapter Three

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_On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe._

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Oh, she's tired.

She'd lingered in the bathroom after Rick had stalked out, drawing out her night time routine until, left with nothing else to do, she'd entered their bedroom, only to discover that he'd already fallen asleep.

He'd been curled on his side, his back facing her.

It wasn't as if they typically cuddled during the night, but after their - was it a fight? A clash of hushed words? - the sight of him in such a ridged position had stabbed in a way she didn't want to think about, and she'd lain on the mattress, staring at the ceiling well into the early morning.

And now, awake again after too few hours, she's so tired.

Opening her eyes, Kate peers around their bedroom, but Rick's not here, his side of the bed straightened, his pillow cool under her fingers. Apparently when she did finally fall asleep, she'd crashed hard.

Great. Any chance of getting to talk to him before work has now disappeared. Having a private conversation with the kids around would involve talking in subtext, and she requires a clear head and a vat of coffee for that kind of discussion.

Wait a minute, can she smell…?

Turning to her bedside table, she sucks in a lungful of air to fast, her choked inhalation filling the bedroom. There, between her alarm clock and lamp, sits a thermos and a plate. But it's the note leaning against what she hopes is the coffee which she reaches for first.

_Have to go into work early. _

_Breakfast in peace for you._

_Xo_

Oh, shit.

She can't breathe.

The paper falls to the bed and Kate stares at the pancakes, the chocolate chip smiley face mocking her from the plate.

In the fifteen years they've been assigned to each other, fifteen years of living together, of marriage, not once has he ever made her breakfast in bed.

Oh, _Охуеть__!_

He's told the Center. They're going to kill her.

It's the only explanation for his gesture. One last moment of kindness. Lull her into a false sense of security and…

Would he let them do that to their kids? Kill her here? Or would he wait for when she's on her way to work? Maybe at the bookstore?

Gripping the thermos in one hand, she takes a swig of the nicely warmed drink, her lips shaking, a droplet sliding down her chin.

Although, if this is her last day on earth, at least she'll go with good coffee flowing through her veins.

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"And then Elise was complaining about having a babysitter. And I think she's right. I'm old enough to look after myself. And Jay."

She's been nodding along to Alexis for five minutes now. Listening to her daughter's complaints about how grown up she is, and for every second of that Kate's been trying not to cry, trying not to reach across the breakfast counter and hold her first born.

When did she become so big? A teenager? Someone who no longer needs her?

Swallowing the spasm that rises in her throat with every question, Kate extends her arm across the gap between her and Alexis, running her fingers through the cascade of curls so similar to her own.

"I love you."

She does. She loves her children in a way she'd never imagined when the Academy had discussed their future, the cover they'd be required to have.

God she hopes they'll be okay without her. That Rick…

She closes her eyes. This is her fault. But did he really have to do this? Report her?

"Mom, is everything okay?"

Looking at her baby girl, even if she is thirteen, Kate smiles, brushing a kiss onto Alexis' forehead.

"Fine. I just… I don't tell you enough. And I should. You need to know how much I love you. How proud I am of you."

The expression on her daughter's face speaks to how peculiar her declaration is, and she waves a hand between them, hopping off the stool. Coming around to Alexis, she envelops her in a sideways hug, the poor girl still looking as if a second head has popped up between them.

"I- I love you too, Mom."

Whatever happens next, at least she'll have that.

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"Jay, do you have a second before the bus comes?"

She's climbed the stairs to her son's room with heavy feet, but she can't head off to work without having one last moment with him too.

"What did I do?"

Huffing out a laugh, she carefully steps across his bedroom floor, mindful of the Legos scattered in every direction and the fact that she has no shoes on. The next time she has to torture someone for information she really should consider these blocks as a device.

Except… she won't have that chance. Will she?

"You've done nothing, hon." She sinks into the small space beside him. "I just wanted to say bye before I head to work."

Again she earns an incredulous look from her child, and a chunk of her heart cracks, falling low in her stomach. With the business to run, orders from Russia coming in weekly, a house to keep up to standards, somehow her children have slipped down the list of her priorities.

What kind of mother does that make her? Maybe they'll be better off when she's gone?

"Anyway. Have a good day at school okay, Jay?" Curling an arm around his shoulders, she dots a kiss onto the top of his head. She won't push him too far.

"Yeah, I'm just finishing this car off, Mom, and then I promise I'll be out of here."

"I know. Thank you. And, Jay." Screw not going too far. "I love you. And I'm proud of you."

Heaving herself off the floor, she attempts to contain the whimper that rushes up her throat as his head ducks adorably, a blush staining his cheeks. Oh, her precious boy.

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Kate searches the neighborhood, her stare traveling from shrub to shrub, to every corner that could conceal someone. But there's no one there, the street is its normal hustle of moms out for a morning walk with their strollers and kids standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the school bus.

Her eyes narrow on the house across the street. If only…

But they wouldn't do the job here, would they? If she had been assigned the task, she would be wary; there are far too many issues with this location. She'd hide in the back seat if it were night... There's always the broken down car on the side of the quiet road trick. Or wait for them in their office if it has a back entrance.

Which hers does.

Yanking open the car door, she peers into the interior, just to be sure. Her kids are still inside the house, this can't happen here.

There's no one there though, nothing more than left over takeaway cups and a pair of Rick's sneakers.

Ohhh, Rick.

Is it wrong that she'll miss him? Even if he's the one who called her in?

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Her fingers drum out a continuous pattern on the steering wheel, the front door to their bookshop several yards in front of where she sits. But she can't get out of the car, has been stalled here in silence for at least ten minutes.

Maybe she should just pull out and drive? Keep going until she runs out of gas?

But would living on the run, far from her kids be worth it?

Tap.

She jumps in her seat, her heart thrashing as adrenaline floods her nervous system, and twisting to stare out her window, she finds herself looking into Rick's blue eyes.

Crap.

"What are you doing in the car, Kate?"

Umm. She shrugs, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing on her flesh as she winds down the glass.

She's a trained agent about to have a heart attack at the thought of speaking to her husband. No wonder she's in trouble!

"Well… okay." His expression of disbelief matches Jay's - or Jay's matches his father's - to perfection, and she tries not to lose her remaining thread of sanity. "Anyhow, the release of the new James Bond comic book is going fantastically. And I really didn't spend this morning reading the Casino Royale section. Promise."

His eyebrows dance, caterpillars that wiggle below his forehead, and the coil that had been winding tighter across her chest, stills. She's been witness to his cold-blooded side, the way he can perform an execution and joke about some random fact moments later, but this…

Is he for real?

"Kate?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming into work today? Or are you just planning to watch from a distance?" He's asking the questions even as he's opening her door, and she's left with no other option than to get out of the car.

"Work. I'm…" About to walk into a death trap?

Taking her hand, he's still rattling on about the latest Bond comic, and she nods accordingly, glancing left and right as subtly as she can while waiting for the hit.

"And I grabbed a copy for Jay. Thought we could read it together before bed. I know how much _I_ love it…" Rick's voice drops to a hush. "Granted some it's as far from reality as you can get, but Jay doesn't need to know that."

"Yeah. I mean no. No, he doesn't need…" He doesn't need to know a thing about their other life. When she's gone… Her thoughts trail off, the closed office door at the back of their store standing like a beacon of doom.

Geez, she's dramatic when faced with her own death.

"I have a surprise for you, Kate."

He gestures for her to go ahead of him, and she can't help but stop, searching his face for answers as to what in the world is going on.

He's a blank canvas though, just bright eyes and a smile curving his lips, and she twists the handle, squaring her shoulders as she prepares to face the other side head on.

"Do you like it?"

"It's- I-" Well, shit. "You bought me flowers?"

"They didn't have roses. And it's winter so the range was limited. But the wild flowers made me think of you. Do you remember when you used to pick up odd ones after your walks with Alexis in the stroller?"

Yes. Yes, of course she does. Their daughter was such a placid darling and Kate had spent half her days strolling the parks without a peep from her, the flowers piling high at her baby's feet.

"You've never bought me flowers before. I mean, I love them. But, Rick?"

She pivots toward him, turning her head at the last moment, her gaze glued to the stunning display on her desk.

"I know. I…" His hand scrubs across his face as if he's attempting to erase a whiteboard. "I haven't done a lot of things. And I'm sorry for that."

"Sorry for what?"

How has she gone from preparing for her assassination at the hands of her husband to him buying her flowers and apologizing?

"For-" His eyes meet hers before traveling around the office, his silent statement clear. Not here, not when they could be overheard. "Being an ass."

"No. No, Rick. It's my-" Damn, they really shouldn't be having this conversation here. "It's fine. We're good. Right?"

His nod is emphatic, teeth flashing as he grins at her, and she finds herself smiling in turn, her gaze drifting back to where her flowers stand proudly.

He bought her _flowers_.

The coffee. The pancakes. It was never about trying to kill her this morning.

He was trying to woo her.

And somehow, this is a much more terrifying prospect.

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FYI, High game in Monte Carlo- Casino Royale comic book is actually fact, funnily enough! Sadly I can't link the site showing how it was released right in time for this story... back in January 1981!

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Big hugs and kisses for all that left messages of support, logged in and guests alike, I really appreciate you taking the time to review.

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for putting up with me and for their beta work!

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

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Motherland

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_On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe._

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Chapter Four

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"Alexis, I understand that _you_ think you're old enough-"

"I am!" Her daughter cuts her off mid-sentence, and Kate grinds her teeth, flashing her less-than-impressed glare. "Sorry, Mom."

"As I was saying, you think you're old enough, and I understand that, but when it comes to dinner and the stove I want someone here, at least for a little while. So, I've spoken to Meagan and she will stay with you guys, help out with dinner, and then go home." She pauses, staring at her daughter intently. "Mrs. Joy will be also be keeping an eye on you from next door. Anything suspicious and she will come straight over for the rest of the night. Do we agree?"

Dividing her attention between Alexis' hopeful expression and Jay's bored one, she waits for confirmation.

"We will, Mom. Promise."

"Yeah."

Jay rolls his eyes as he shuffles from the dining room table, and Kate leans on her elbows, rubbing a fingertip across the grooves of her forehead. Ironically enough, she's seen too much in this world to graciously allow her children to spread their wings and become independent. This feels more like offering lambs to the wolves, rather than giving them a bit more freedom.

"We'll be fine, Mom. I can do this." Alexis bounces on the spot, her hands clapping together before she dashes up the stairs and Kate smiles – at least she hopes it comes across as one – reaching for her mug of coffee. Saturday afternoon might be coming to an end but her nerves are shot and she hasn't even left the house yet.

"We're doing the right thing."

Listing her head to one side, she raises an eyebrow at Rick. Normally he's the overprotective parent, the one who tells their kids to go out and explore the world, and then becomes a mess when they do.

"Alexis wouldn't even consider doing anything that isn't mandated by a rule. And I doubt Jay will leave his room long enough to get into trouble."

She opens her mouth, but – damn him – he has a very good point. They have amazing kids, and besides yesterday's panic attack, she's never doubted that they live in a safe neighbourhood.

And, well, yesterday needs to be forgotten. Immediately.

"I know. You're right."

The glee that blossoms across his face, the mischievous curl to his lips leaves her rolling her eyes. Yeah, she should have chosen her words better, and she lifts a hand, palm facing his way.

Please. No comment.

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"Why do you always choose the dingiest places to get changed in?" She hovers a finger above the sink, the grime layered in circles up the basin. Public restrooms off shady parks are at the bottom of her 'places to visit' list.

"So no one can interrupt us." The matter of fact way he delivers his answer, his eyes never straying from the mirror – not that their reflection is visible – has her knocking a fist into his shoulder.

Ass.

"That's what out of order signs and locks are for."

Smirking, he doesn't retaliate, his fingers instead adjusting the moustache he's been trying to sit horizontally for the last two minutes, and she takes a step into him, her hand reaching for the disaster. Her own hair's been smothered under the blond wig, the strands pulled high into pigtails, loose flyaways at the front left down to – hopefully – distort her features.

It's so much harder to disguise a woman's face.

Lurching from her touch, his eyes wide, Rick stares at her, and his surprise knifes her hard in the gut. While she doesn't normally assist, leaves him to do his own thing while she does hers, somehow it's… different tonight.

"You're leaning too far to the right."

He nods, moving back toward her, and, with her gaze _not _fixated on his mouth, the way his tongue peeks out before slipping away, she alters the fake moustache until it's in place. Much better.

"Thank you."

His words are soft, kind, such an oxymoron considering where they stand, what they're about to do, and for the first time in a long time, she doesn't pull away, the nails on her fingers scrapping across the even plane of his cheek where he'd shaved prior to them leaving.

When they'd originally moved in together, their apartment in Maine was tiny and she'd been forced to stand in the doorway of their bathroom, watching him with the razor while she'd waited for her turn. It had always struck her as somewhat intimate, witnessing such a private moment.

Granted he'd often let the scruff coat his face back then…

"Why don't you ever miss a shave anymore?"

Shit.

Pushing her fingers against her lips doesn't stop the question, and she ducks, hides from the way his head turns, his eyes searching her face.

"What do you mean?"

She lifts a shoulder, keeping her mouth closed. She shouldn't have said anything.

"I guess it's just…" He drifts off, and she steals a glance, his features contorting, as he seems to search for an explanation. "With the kids, and I suppose it just became habit. Why? Do you like me better with a moustache?"

His fake one shifts unnaturally under his nose, his lips puckering to assist with the crazy actions, and she purposely shudders. The soup strainer is anything but sexy.

Unlike when…

There'd been something about his five o'clock shadow, the way his day old growth rasped across her skin, grazing her sensitive flesh-

"Kate?"

"Huh?"

Squeezing her thighs together, Kate grasps the wayward strands of her blond wig, twirling them around her thumb the same way she'd tangled his hair around her fingers when he'd drifted down her...

Bad, bad memories.

Well, not bad, just ill-timed, and the memories shatter in the reality of where they are.

"Is it the moustache that I look good with?"

She shakes her head, reaching for the bag at her feet, and as she pivots toward the exit, she throws her answer over her shoulder.

"It was the scruff, Rick. You and the scruff."

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Curling her fingers into a ball, she hunches her shoulders. The flimsy lace top flutters around her torso, the freezing night air slapping against her skin as she stumbles along the semi-deserted sidewalk.

She's far enough from the row of strip joints that she's only passed four other people, each one of them male, each one of them eyeing her like a prized piece of meat.

Yet not one of them is her target.

If her calculations are right – and they're never wrong – he should be rounding the corner ahead of her any moment now, and she slows her steps, angling her head toward the ground in preparation.

And through the wisps of the blond wig which are flicking her down-turned face, Kate spots his approach.

Breathing through her nose, she edges her stride a little more to the right, prepares to accidentally 'bump' into her target, and as they come within a yard of each other, Rick appears behind him.

Thank goodness.

She rolls onto her ankle, her shoulder slamming into her mark as she falls into his body, and the former officer and traitor to their country, grasps her biceps, worry coating his words.

"Oh, Miss. Are you okay?"

Ignoring his concern, she relaxes her muscles, attempts to be a dead weight, attempts to stop his progress, and her maneuver works.

They both fall to their knees, his slight frame no match for her determination to bring him down, and as she shoves her target backward, in what hopefully looks like outrage to those that may be passing by, Rick grabs him from behind.

Standing, she scans the street for witnesses, the grunts from behind her, from behind the large stack of boxes – not so accidentally left there this morning – are low, but still...

They have a reputation for a reason. Nothing is ever left to chance.

Silence replaces the death rattle, and she steps to the entrance of their purposely-built tower, darting her gaze to ensure all is well.

Not that she had any doubt he would be able to handle the job.

Rick wipes the blade he'd successfully used on the sweater of their target, the red stain a mere blemish in the low light, and she _doesn't_ let out a sigh of relief, _wasn't_ worried about whose last moan was being uttered.

"It's early?"

The way he lifts the end of the sentence morphs the statement into a question and she raises an eyebrow in response, her head angling to check on any unwanted passers-by. Why does he always want to have a chat at the most inconvenient times?

"I've tracked him on more than one occasion along this route," she reminds her husband. "He was right on time." She straightens her shoulders. "We did the job successfully."

Rocking off his hunches, Rick twirls the blade between fingers – damn his talented hands – before sheathing the weapon into his ankle holster, concealing it underneath his jeans.

"No. It's _early_. I mean, poor Al was so excited and if we come home before nine..."

Huh?

"I just- we could go have dinner?"

The ache in her jaw is testament to how far her mouth has dropped open, and his hand waves between them.

"Don't worry. It was stupid. I-"

"No. I mean yes. I- we could go to that new Italian place?"

Closing her lips with a smack, she tugs at her inappropriate top.

"Although I should probably get changed first."

He's nodding as he steps around the now slumped former traitor, their mission complete.

"Yeah, and we should probably get going."

Right. A dead body lies prone at their feet and while normally she'd be headed straight for the shower, not tonight.

She has a date with her husband.

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Thank you for all your enthusiasm for Russian Kate and Rick, I grin manically when reading your reviews xoxo

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for their brilliant beta skills!

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

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Motherland

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_On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe._

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Chapter Five

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"So…" Kate twirls the straw in her long island iced tea - because it's what _all _the PTA moms order and she'll forgo the vodka if it helps with her façade - as she looks around the restaurant, her gaze avoiding her husband's. "This is nice?"

His head nods as he stirs his own drink, the silence and awkward stop-starts to their conversation a theme since they'd taken their seats ten minutes ago. If she weren't at such a loss as to what to do next, she'd find the whole situation hilarious.

Fifteen years of marriage and they can't have a _simple _chat.

Closing her eyes, she mentally flips through the past, attempts to recall circumstances when they'd had something more, had anything at all.

But she's coming up empty.

While their relationship had been heated before the kids arrived - in the bedroom and at work, although for very different reasons - as time has passed, they've apparently been digging a rut the size of Kiev between them, and now...

"I hope the garlic bread's nice."

She opens her eyes, staring at Rick, and taking a sip of her drink, she draws her eyebrows together. When is garlic bread not nice?

"Yeah, me too."

God, what she wouldn't give for some kind of interruption to save this sinking ship. A sudden illness? The announcement that the Cold War's gone nuclear?

This is her fault though, and she has to get them out of this disastrous dinner date somehow. Rick's recent romantic gestures have evidently clouded her head, made her susceptible to everything that the Center warns them against.

Emotions. _They are for the weak._

Feelings. _They will destroy the mission._

Love. _Useless._

"Rick-"

"Well hello, you two!"

Swallowing the 'let's go home', Kate twists in her chair, her heart plummeting at who's standing behind her.

Never again shall she idly wish for a disruption because she's been granted it, and she'd rather be facing the Secretary-General than...

"Helen, John. What are you doing here?" Rick's question elevates as he speaks until the 'here' is more squeak than word.

"Did you read about this place too?" She attempts to cover his panic, even as a line of sweat breaks out beneath her loose curls. Her shirt seems to be shrinking, her chest fighting to expand against the material.

Breathe, Kate.

"Yes, we received a leaflet in the mail as well."

Smiling at Helen's explanation - her cheeks ache - Kate glances back at Rick, silently pleads for him to read her mind. They need to leave.

Now.

"Do you need more chairs?" A waiter hovers next to their table, and she shakes her head as Helen answers.

"Oh, that would be great. We really enjoyed having dinner with you on Thursday."

Changing her no into a yes, Kate nods, her back teeth grating against each other. What kind of person invites them self to sit without an invitation?

She shifts her seat, placing herself beside Rick - safety in numbers - as Helen and John settle into the gap across from them, and with a groan that's inaudible, Kate contorts her face, tries to appear happy.

Living a lie, being undercover for so many years has to be an advantage in creating tonight's facade.

Right?

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"She was fishing." Hissing at Rick as she yanks the driver's side door open, Kate battles the urge to kick the metal. She should walk home, run home, expel the anger before she ends up taking it back with her.

"You don't know that."

"'_Where__ have__ you lived? Do you travel a lot? Have you always owned a bookstore?__'_ She was trying to get information, Rick. Information on me!" Slamming the door shut without getting in, she glares at her husband as he edges closer, his palm sliding up and down her spine.

"Kate." The warning in his tone as loud as any siren, and she puffs out a breath of hot air, attempts to find some Zen. They're in public and she has an image to uphold and…

Who the hell is she kidding? Fuck this.

"She knows-"

Rick's mouth slams into hers, his tongue pushing for entry, and she parts her lips, their teeth clashing before her indignation flares once more, her outrage a snake that's striking out.

And she shoves him back as she narrows her eyes. No one shuts her up. Even if she should listen to his unspoken advice.

"Kate, it's not even ten yet - I've never seen you eat so fast - a drive sounds good."

She opens her mouth to protest, but he's right, not that she'll be stupid enough to say so again, and she reaches for the door handle. A desolate warehouse where she can punch the shit out of something is safer than standing in the parking lot, fuming for the whole neighborhood to see.

"Let me." His fingers pry hers away, his chest bumping against her shoulder, as he not so subtly nudges her to the left and the fight within blazes once more. сволочь. "You can hate me later, Kate, but I'm driving."

The fire in his glare no doubt matches her own, and they stand, staring at each other.

"Hi-ya, Castles. Great night to be out," Mrs. Scully calls to them - _fantastic,_ they'll be the talk of their street - as she dramatically hunches in her coat, hustling to her car from the restaurant and Kate steps back, waving in the woman's direction as she stalks around to the other side of their Plymouth.

The temperature is supposed to dip toward freezing tonight, not that she cares.

"Drive. Drive me away from here."

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Their car slows as they hit dirt, the headlights cutting through the black, and she shifts in her seat for the hundredth time. It may have only been five minutes, but she's been fidgeting to get out of the car before she'd even hopped in.

"This do?"

Dropping her head in answer, Kate opens the door, the ground still moving slightly. They're at the site of a new housing estate, the land yet to be completely cleared, divided. Whatever.

She wants out. Wants to stalk up and down the track, rant about how messed up their night has been. She wants to find a rock and throw it at the happy family posed on the sign above their heads, pitch it at the lie the newly reclaimed space attempts to sell.

Everything's a lie.

"Kate." The edge to her name surprises her, and she spins, facing Rick. "This isn't just about you. It's _our _family at stake. _Our _life."

If she were a better person, had lived a different life, hadn't done the things she's done…

Well, she wouldn't be here, would she?

Striding forward, she removes the space between them, ramming her mouth against his, shutting him up. She can't hear all the ways her mistake is going to destroy them, can't bear the shame spelled out in detail.

She can't shoulder the heartache that one foolish move long ago will most likely end what she didn't even realize she wanted.

Life.

His teeth nip at her bottom lip, tugging at her flesh as his hands burrow between them, and she moves back a fraction, the pull on her coat enough of a clue as to what he's doing.

Buttons, there are so many fucking buttons.

She shoves his jacket away from his shoulders before her arms drop down, jerking at the hem of his shirt. Off. If she can get it off, hell, get the damn thing open, she'll be one step closer to him, and a grunt of satisfaction fills the air.

It's his though, not hers.

Bitter ice air slaps at her exposed skin, her thick coat and blouse fluttering apart at her chest, the cotton of her bra her only protection from the frigid temperature.

The cold hurts. Hurts when she inhales. Hurts as it reminds her of their Motherland. Hurts as today's date clicks into place.

The eighth.

No wonder she's so damn lost.

Tomorrow will hurt even more though. The ninth of January always cuts deep, a scar that will last longer than any other she bears and she reaches for Rick's belt buckle, wrenches at it once as she raises her eyes to his.

"Fuck me."

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Her chest hits the trunk of their car, the metal an icy burn against her skin, but the pain only increases as Rick drags her arms behind her, her shoulders rotating to their limit.

It's only for a moment, her coat and shirt discarded in one fluid motion, and she snarls out a warning. "They better not be on the ground."

The last thing she wants to be doing tomorrow is the dry cleaning, but her threat only receives a slap to her ass.

Bastard.

Arching her spine, she twists up and off the car, manages a whole foot of distance before he plants his hand between her shoulder blades, the pressure he employs enough for her to slam back down.

One of his hands curl along her neck, tracking the angle where her jaw meets her ear, and she lies still as he brushes her hair to one side. The strands are tight in his grasp, the force pulling her head to follow his tug, her stare crashing into his.

"Safe word, Kate?"

Oh, damn.

"Apples. I remember."

It's apparently the right reply, and he nods once before his grip on her hair disappears, the mess of her curls falling over her face. Specks of light from the moon are all she can see, and she strains to hear any movement from behind.

He doesn't take long, his fingers flipping open the button on her pants, his mouth distracting her from his actions as he scrapes his teeth along her shoulder blade, and she wiggles beneath him, the pressure of his hand opening her zipper far too high.

She doesn't get what she wants, unfortunately.

Disappearing from her back, Rick's absence allows the cold air to rush in, replacing the warmth of his skin, and she pushes both her palms onto the trunk, peering behind her.

He's working on his own pants, freeing himself from his boxers, and she bends, dragging her jeans and panties down her legs, kicking one shoe off and into the tire. Damn it.

"Down." He motions to the rounded rear of their car, his command short and sharp.

Yeah, that will work on her.

"And if I don't?"

The sting of his hand on her ass releases a gasp, her hold on the taillight the only thing keeping her upright for a second, but she straightens, her shoulders a hard line.

"And if I don't?"

She's walking a fine line, is about to cross onto a side they don't venture, but, as his feet kick hers apart, his forearm pinning her to their car, she welcomes the ache.

Better to hurt now, hurt in the best way, than focus on the anguish that awaits her, the sorrow when her life burns to ashes.

And it's not like he doesn't have it in him. That edge to his soul. A hardness to his heart. She hides behind a wall, but that barrier keeps her alive and she has no doubt that a similar one exists within Rick, even if he's more adapt at concealing its structure.

They can't do what they do without it.

His first thrust is without warning, and the sensation of being torn in half, the searing pain between her legs leaves her screaming sharply before his left hand cups her mouth, stifling the sound.

Not that she heeds his caution. Again. And she bites down onto what flesh of his palm she can reach.

Digging his fingertips into her jaw - he moves away from her teeth - he pins her head to the surface of the trunk, and she inhales sharply through her nose as he slowly withdraws, the ice air curling up into the space he's left.

The chill sliding through her folds doesn't last more than a moment, his second drive inside just as excruciating, but the noise that rips at her throat the smallest of moans, one of his hand still clamped on her jaw, the other so close to where she needs it, and she arches underneath his grip.

Attempts to find some friction. Attempts to find release.

Attempts to find the numb that will come with oblivion.

If only she could remove the part of her heart that feels and experiences sensation as effortlessly as he takes away every one of her thoughts with the thrust of his hips, the flick of his fingers now sure against her clit.

If only her problems were that easily solved.

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Thank you for continued support, I truly appreciate hearing from you xoxo

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for holding my hand on this one and their amazing beta work.

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

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Motherland

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_On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe._

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Chapter Six

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Today is an ordinary day. Today is an ordinary day. Today is-

"Kate?"

Rolling onto her back, a red hue bleeds through her closed eyelids, and she sighs, sleep a much more appealing scenario.

Although it seems Rick has other ideas.

The mattress shifts, a depression beside her head, and she doesn't have to look to see the concern on his expression; the weight of it descends, smothering her from head to toe.

Today is just an ordinary day.

"Kate, I'm going to take the kids to the mall, grab some breakfast on the way for them." His hand pats her shoulder, hesitantly thumps over her pajamas. "I'll start the bath for you. Okay?"

She screws up her face, opening her mouth, the "I'm fine" perched on the tip of her tongue, but he doesn't know the significance of today's date, she'd never told him why she'd chosen to be an agent, what happened to her mother.

When she disclosed her real name to Rick all those years ago, she'd crossed enough of a line.

"Why?"

"Huh?

Opening her eyes, she squints, the light streaming around their curtains bright with the hour, and, lifting her right hand, she scrubs it across her face.

"What time is it? And why the bath? The trip to the mall?"

"It's almost nine." Rick angles his torso, facing her. "Ten to. And I thought- I mean I just- Are you okay?"

His eyes shift, his gaze flickering down her body. _Ohhhh_.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course I'm okay." She arches her spine, toes stretching, and uh, yes, maybe he has a point. Last night wasn't a first, but it had been a while since they'd done thatlike _that_.

Her entire middle section must be an array of color this morning. Last night after showering, she'd stared in the mirror at the blossoming finger marks, conformation that he'd held on rather well for the ride.

The drive home had been made in silence, each veering in different directions as soon as they'd walked in the door, each step away from each other harder than the last. The self-deprecating state that had engulfed her whole by the end of the night, the devil on her shoulder that was whispering that she'd fucked up – in all the ways – wasn't helped when Rick eventually came upstairs, avoiding her gaze, and scurrying to bed with only a quick "night."

At least his current disposition appears to be more communicative than grunt, and even her own black hole of a mood appears to have been banished with the new day. To a degree…

"About this morning, can we go out? Do something together?"

Curling the comforter over her head and burying herself in the darkness is one option for marking today's anniversary, but there are two children downstairs who have a mom, still have her – at least for the moment – and she'd sworn to Alexis as a baby that she wouldn't allow her mother's death, what she does for her country, to corrupt and taint her own child. Children.

Today is an ordinary day.

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"Oh, this is so lame." Alexis moans into her palms, her feet _literally _dragging along the ground and Kate grins, knocking her shoulder against her daughter's.

"I'll buy the winner an ice cream?"

Hazel eyes, a perfect replica to her own, peek through pale fingers.

"What if I lose?"

Rick throws an arm around Alexis' shoulder, his left hand messing with her hair, brown curls absconding from behind her ears, fluttering around her face.

"Then _I'll_ buy the loser an ice cream." He turns on the puppy dog look, the one that irritates Kate as much as it leaves her agreeing to the stupidest of ideas, because who exactly can say no to that expression, and Alexis nods.

Poor munchkin never stood a chance.

Stepping up to the start line, Jay hurtles his mini golf club through the air ninja style – a rather manic, uncoordinated ninja style – the metal only clearing his nose by an inch. "I'm so going to win."

Shaking her head, she smiles, raising an eyebrow at her son, and with a flourish of her hand, she indicates for him to go first.

Today is a good day.

Rick had convinced them over waffles – the indecent amount of sugary chocolate sauce flooding her body removing all good judgment – that a round of putt-putt would be the perfect Sunday family activity, and while she'd been skeptical, he may just have been right.

Winter is on vacation for the day, sunlight cutting through the crisp air, and she raises her face to the sky, the almost warmth melting the melancholy that had iced over her heart last night.

Between Helen and the _date_, she'd buried herself under the largest of snowdrifts.

But not today.

The back of Rick's knuckles drift across hers, a fleeting stutter she wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the hitch against her hand as his gloves rub hers, and she stands still, her gaze dropping to their children.

And there it is again.

A little more force, a little less finesse, his fingers swinging past. Is he… Is he trying to hold her hand?

Listing onto her left side, she cants toward him, relaxes her body, and waits.

Maybe this is in her head. After all this isn't like at work, there's no one here but themselves, no show to put on, no façade to uphold, hell, she'd been surprised that the putt-putt golf center was even open.

It's just family.

Their family.

Oh.

His hand slides against her own, the width of each finger stretching hers apart, curling loosely to maintain their togetherness, and it's an odd, foreign, kind of… nice feeling.

And she closes her eyes.

The voice of her first instructor at the Academy echoes in her ear; the rules, the warnings, the mantra that she clings dear to, replaying at length as if it were yesterday.

Hadn't she reiterated the words just yesterday as she'd stared around the restaurant, unable to have a simple conversation with Rick?

_Emotions are for the weak._

_Feelings will destroy the mission._

_Love is useless._

"Mom! Dad! Did you see? Did you see that shot?"

Jay's excitement roars louder than the past, and she opens her eyes, grinning as her son dances on the green. Alexis laughs, childlike and carefree, lifting her hand toward her brother, and he high fives her, before barreling to where they stand.

"I'm totally getting that ice cream off you, Mom."

Today is a great day.

.

.

Kate tugs at the car door, beaming at the way Jay dramatically shudders, his shoulders hunched as he careens into Rick.

"My brain. My brain is frozen, Dad!"

"Oh no, it's the end of the world. Brains everywhere are freezing, turning normal boys into zombie popsicles." Playing up the theatrics, Rick dashes behind her back, firm hands grasping her shoulders as he steers her toward their son. "Here, take this peace offering. Her brain is much larger than mine."

Well, that's nice…

"Yes, Jay, while that's true-"

"No, wait that's not what I meant." Rick cuts her off, standing straight, and she shakes her head. Too late now. Plus, it was his idea for ice cream in January in the first place, even if Alexis and Jay don't know that. If that's not proof of his own lack of judgment, she doesn't know what is.

"Sorry, you said it. I am far more intelligent. And I have witnesses. No take backs."

"Don't worry, Dad." Alexis smirks as she stalks past them all, opening the car's back door. "It won't be zombies that kill us, it will be the apes. Or deadly albino mutants."

Spinning, Kate glares at her husband, placing both hands on her hips for effect. "Did you let her watch 'The Omega Man'?"

His head thrashes from side to side, hands raised in surrender as he takes a step back. And then another.

"No. No. I would remember that." His gaze flies between herself and Alexis. "I didn't, did I?"

"I read the book, Mom, stop worrying." Their daughter disappears into the car and Rick fist-pumps the air before his eyes swing her way.

"I-" Pointing to the car, his lips drawn together in a thin line, he nods, his sheepish expression almost worth laughing over. "I'm just going to hop in."

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek, holding her features in her best 'unimpressed' look, and as he flings himself out of her view, she clamps her hand over her mouth, stifling the amusement that begs for release.

Damn funny man-

It's the lack of speed of the oncoming car that spins her head toward the road, her fingers wrapped around the door handle pausing in their clench to open her side. Going slower than normal, the engine idles deep, a vibration that snakes its way through her skin, into her veins.

It's out of place. An abnormality.

And she pulls her hair loose from the elastic, tracking the gold car's journey through the strands until the Chevy progresses past the ice cream parlor, and as it turns left, her breath whooshes past her lips in a rush.

The driver was bent over the steering wheel, their baseball cap pulled low, and it's a move all too familiar.

She's done exactly the same thing when on surveillance.

.

.

At midday when she'd strolled along Madison Avenue on her way to grab a sandwich during her lunch break- mere chill falling from the sky instead of snowflakes – she'd pushed aside the thoughts of yesterday and the car, just as winter had pushed aside the warmth of the sun, but as she'd come to a halt in front of a rival's bookstore, not so subtly checking out their display, a man four yards back came to the exact same stop.

And her heart had whimpered, as her mind attempted to rationalize the behavior.

Tried and failed

"Kate?"

Shaking her head, she twists in the driver's seat, lifting an eyebrow at Rick as he leans through the space between the car and the passenger door.

"Are you planning on getting out today? Or do you want me to bring dinner to you? Tuesday night means steak, so…"

She pulls on the handle, rolling her eyes as she heaves herself from the driver's seat, and, walking to the mailbox, she lifts a thumb to her teeth, gnawing on the raised edge of her nail.

Maybe she should say something to Rick about the car on Sunday, and the man yesterday. Maybe…

It's her imagination though, it has to be.

But what if it's not?

The low drone of an engine overwhelms her nervous system, her fingers releasing the mail she'd pulled out, and as the envelopes slip from her grasp, they land on this afternoon's fresh snow, losing their identity amid all the white.

Ignoring the damage that's occurring to the paper, she angles her head, searching the road, and as the car rolls past each house, bringing whoever is inside closer, she forgets every piece of training that has been hammered into her by her brutal training officers, all her knowledge and experience draining from her body, just as the color must be draining from her face.

And as the gold car moves parallel with her home, her stare cuts to the driver, blue eyes locking with hers for a second before he turns away, reaching for the something in the seat next to him.

She should have told the kids this morning that she loves them.

She should have told Rick-

.

.

Thank you for not stabbing me for over the last chapter, the words most definitely went off on their own little angst tangent there. Lol.

.

Thank you to Jo and Jamie for their BTS hard word xoxo

.

Thank you for reading xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

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Motherland

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_On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe._

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Chapter Seven

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.

A hand wraps around her wrist and Kate spins into the movement, curling her arm and breaking the hold. She aims high for their throat, nails clawed, stretching out, but she's caught, fingers crushing hers, their other hand gripping her shoulder.

And they jerk her, hard.

"Kate! Enough!" Eyes wide, lines rippling his forehead, Rick's expression says it all. The outrage. The disbelief. The worry.

Crap. What is she doing?

"Shit. Shit, I'm sorry. The-" She angles her head toward the road, searching for the car. There's nothing there though, the street as deserted as it normally is this time of evening.

"Did you see the car?" She flickers her gaze between his face and the empty road. "Tell me you saw the car?"

"What? The Chevy? Yeah, I saw it." His shoulder shrugs by her chin, and she shifts closer, burrowing into the line of his neck, his five o'clock shadow rasping against her cheek. "Kate, what's this about?"

Huffing out a shaky breath, she peers around him toward- nothing. There's nothing there but snowdrifts illuminated by the glow of neighboring windows. Nothing but families settling down to dinner inside cookie-cutter homes. Nothing but normal American life.

Maybe this _is_ all in her head? Paranoia flaring? The job finally destroying her sanity?

Except in the house across the street a curtain twitches, the flash of light a beacon against the darkness of the approaching night.

"We should go inside, someone's watching."

She would place their life savings on the fact that it's Helen spying on them.

.

.

"What's happening, Kate?" Huddling beside her, Rick glares at Helen and John's house from between the semi-open blinds, both his hands propping himself up on the kitchen counter and she runs her fingers through her hair, scraping her nails into her scalp.

The pain is welcome.

"It's nothing, probably just a co-" She snaps her mouth closed.

"You don't believe in coincidences, Kate."

"Yeah, well..."

She's avoiding the alternative. Ignoring the scream of her heartbeat. Blocking out the way her lungs fight to take in her next breath.

His head jerks toward hers, their stares locking together before he raises an eyebrow, looking at the staircase. Their bedroom's safe - _safer_ \- to have this discussion and she nods.

The phone rings, and the knife is in her hand, her fingers seizing its handle and she pivots, reflexes taking over. Fuck. Can the universe cut her a damn break before she accidentally kills someone?

Rick edges away from where she stands with her make-shift weapon, each of his steps a stutter, his gaze remaining glued to hers.

He picks up the phone, the cord bouncing as he holds it to his ear, and he doesn't speak, reaching for the pencil and notepad attached to the wall.

Shit, they have a job.

She inserts the knife back into the wooden block, closing her eyes, as she focuses on doing stupid calming exercises and not on the silence that stretches.

The clang of the handset hitting its holder snaps her upright, her eyes opening.

"I'll go, Kate."

Thrashing her head, straight strands conceal her face - the time she'd spent yesterday flattening her curls worth it - and she inhales through her nose. Taking the fear that no doubt lines her features, she shoves it where she places all her emotions. Deep, deep down.

"It's my turn. I'll be fine."

His lips stay shut, closed in their narrow line, his expression skeptical.

Yeah, she doesn't believe the lie either.

.

.

She slides into the car, her stare on the empty warehouse ahead, eye contact kept to a minimum. Granted it's not like she can see much in the dim shadows anyway, their meeting points are always chosen for their lack of overhead lighting and minimal chance of being recognized.

"Katherine."

"Suzanne."

Of all the handlers who have come and gone over the last fifteen years, there's something about her current one, something ominous… and Kate's back teeth grind, her nails pressing half-crescents into her palm.

"How are things?"

Swallowing - the lump in her throat,_ not_ the bait that's being dangled - she shrugs, raising an eyebrow. She's going for bored, with any luck she'll pull it off.

"The same as they were the last time we spoke."

"Really?" The older woman arches a crooked eyebrow, the wrinkles above her nose deepening. "There is talk that that's not true. Are you lying, Katherine?"

Biting the inside of her bottom lip, Kate focuses on the pain, on how her fingers stab into her hands concealed within her lap.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Richard… has his behavior been _odd _recently?"

A huff of laughter escapes her lips, her hand clamping over her mouth too slow to stop the sound, and she twists in her seat, finally looking at her handler.

"Rick is- He's- Everything's fine. _Normal_." Emphasizing the word, Kate exhales through her nose, relaxing her shoulders as she slumps a fraction. This has nothing to do with Kate's fuck up or Helen, this is about…

"What's the real reason for this meeting, Suzanne?" She glares the best she can considering the darkness inside the car. "And it better not be for something as ludicrous as my husband's current mood."

"We just feel that any alteration in how an agent acts is worthy of inspection."

Rolling her eyes, Kate lists her head back into the seat. Is her handler serious?

"Rick's biggest concern is that he doesn't get laid enough and is no doubt trying his best to fix that. Hardly worth dragging me out here for."

"Well, this should help matters in the bedroom then, a romantic getaway for the two of you." Suzanne taps a switch, the car's interior glowing as she holds up a photo. "Samuel Rodgers, engineer. He'll be there attending a seminar that's being held in their conference room."

Two plane tickets land on her lap, a brochure for a Bed and Breakfast beneath them, and Kate tucks the paperwork into her coat before focusing on the man's image, absorbing the details. Clean cut, average height and weight by the look of it, and as she nods, the light flickers off.

"It's for this Friday and Saturday night. Do the children require assistance?"

Gripping the door handle, Kate shakes her head - she's never used the Center offered care and she's not about to start now.

"It's fine."

She's out of the car and down two streets before she finds enough light to study the plane tickets, her heart landing with a splat on the cracked sidewalk.

Portland, Maine.

They're headed back to their first city. Back to where she'd let Helen live…

So much for there being no such thing as a coincidence.

.

.

"Do you really have to go, Mom?"

Her daughter's question catches her by surprise as she passes Rick her travel bag, the trunk of the taxi already open, and she turns toward Alexis, sliding a hand around her shoulders.

"It's only for two nights. We'll be home before you know it." Kate traps her bottom lip between her teeth, squeezing her arms around her girl. While it's not the first time either of them have been forced to go away for work, they usually travel individually. Considering the Center's _issue _with Rick's behavior, however, she's not about to stray from their instructions.

And it might be... nice, a little getaway from their day-to-day life. Well, besides the killing part.

"I know," Alexis whispers, the hesitancy such a contrast to her normal vibrant child. Pulling away, Kate smoothes down the wayward strands of her daughter's hair, searching her expression to try and find out what this clinginess is really about.

A down turned mouth and eyebrows pulled tight are not a lot to go on.

"It's just, Jay and I will miss you. That's all."

Smiling - that may not be the complete truth, but Kate will take it - she drifts a kiss onto Alexis' forehead, her gaze meeting Rick's as he leans against their car.

While they would expect this behavior in relation to him - Alexis has always been daddy's little girl - this is new for Kate. And sweet.

"How about while we're gone, you walk down to the travel agency and you can plan us a family vacation? Something we can all do together?"

Rick's mouth opens as Alexis pulls herself free, jumping on the spot as she claps her hands together.

"Oh, Mom. I can do that? I mean nothing too expensive and I'll keep us within driving distance. Maybe for Dad's birthday? Ohhhh." She's running up the pathway to their house before pivoting, waving a hand at them. "Have fun." And then she's disappearing into the house.

"Be good for Meagan." Rick speaks to no one, and Kate lifts a shoulder before reaching to pat his back in condolence.

Teenage daughters...

.

.

Twirling the key around his finger, her husband lifts an eyebrow at her, but doesn't move to unlock their room.

"Rick?"

"If we're pretending this is our second honeymoon, shouldn't I carry you over the threshold?"

She opens her mouth, her objection ready, her explanation on all the ways that is _not_ happening poised on the tip of her tongue, but…

They never had a first honeymoon, let alone a second one. The two years they'd spent here in Maine was a rocky road of navigating each other, trying to maintain their married façade and surviving as USSR agents in America. They were still perfecting language idiosyncrasies - an accent was one thing, American sayings something else altogether - and pointless traditions like honeymoons weren't even on their radar.

Still, maybe it would have helped their relationship?

"You'd break your back, Rick."

His jaw drops, mock outrage elevating his hairline, and, unlocking the door, he pushes it open.

The squeal that fills the air most definitely _isn't_ from her, and as Rick pitches her high against his chest, she claws at his shirt, attempts to find some leverage. He's swinging them around, crossing the threshold, and she releases the natural instinct to fight against him, listing into his arms.

This _is _kind of nice.

He's throwing her through the air, the bed breaking her fall, and, holy hell he better run because once the air can enter her lungs again, she's going to get up and gut him like a fish.

"That." Breathe, Kate. "Was." Inhale. "Not." Damn. "Funny."

Rick chuckles, walking up to the end of the mattress, reaching for her heels that barely cling to her toes, and she shoves the nearest pillow under her head, peering down the length of her body.

"Maybe I can make it up to you?"

Licking her lips, she smirks. They've got time and two can play at this game. "Can you?"

He kneels on the cusp of the bed, his legs pushing hers further apart, and with a cockiness that she'll wipe off his face... later, he angles his head to the right.

"Been awhile. You don't-" His head shakes, the sentence knocked apart half way through, and she lifts herself up with her elbows.

"I don't what?"

His gaze avoids hers, his hands reaching for the button on her pants, flicking it open with ease. He doesn't answer her though, and she doesn't push. The things they don't say to each other could fill a book. Several in fact.

Dropping back, she arches her spine, pushing her hips off the mattress, and he tugs her slacks down.

"Where are your panties?" The shock in his voice, the astonishment widening his eyes, kills the mood a little, and she smothers both hands over her face, huffing a laugh at his expression.

"I thought it might help move things along, you know, reduce the barriers between us."

He stills, his fingers motionless high on her thighs, the subtext in her words apparently simple to decipher.

"I don't see anything between you and me."

The squeeze on her legs continues until she removes her hands, and, edging her gaze down her body and up Rick's, she meets his stare. There's a heat in his eyes, an intensity that blazes, and she sucks in a breath, the shake audible inside the room.

An electrical current races through his palms and into her flesh, every one of her nerves trembling at the inferno before her. Her blood thumps within her veins so loudly she's sure he can hear it, and the reassurances that perch on the edge of her tongue, the fact that her heart craves his, screams for him, prepares to escape into the air between them.

But she can't, isn't allowed. Love is forbidden.

For his safety as much as hers, for the well-being of their children, she can't allow what may lie in her heart, in the splinters that have formed over their years together, free.

She has to ignore the whispers of her soul, push away any and all feelings. He can't have her heart, but her body… she can give him her body, silently express what she can never say aloud.

And Kate bends at the waist, pushing her lips hard against his, as she reaches for his belt.

.

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Hopefully this smothers any desire to hunt me down ;-) at least a little?

.

Thank you to Jo and Jamie for their hard work xoxo

.

Thank you for reading xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

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Motherland

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_On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe._

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Chapter Eight

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.

Kate swings a leg over her knee, the slit on the skirt revealing another inch of her thigh, and she raises the glass of red to her lips. Twenty minutes of sitting at the bar, wasting time, fending off advancements from every Tom, Dick, and Harry, and she hasn't seen her target once.

Another twenty and she's moving to plan B. Once she comes up with it.

"What's such a stunning beauty like yourself doing here all alone?"

She pivots on her stool, drawing her eyebrows together at the cheesy line.

"Really, babe, that's all you've got? And why are you here?"

"Your bird's flown the nest. There's a group of them two blocks over partying it up at a strip joint."

Rolling her eyes, she drops her foot, clipping her stilettos to the metal rod under her seat and placing both elbows on the bar.

There goes that strategy and unfortunately, she lacks a new one…

"Got any ideas on what we should do in the meantime?"

Rick smirks, his gaze traveling along her body, before shifting back up to her face, his lips parting as he flashes his teeth.

Hilarious Ass.

"Yeah. I think we already did that."

His mouth opens.

"And that too, Rick." She taps her fingers along the polished timber, one after the other, her short nails clipping the sticky surface. "A walk?"

Maybe they'll get lucky and they'll find Samuel Rodgers stumbling along a deserted alleyway.

"My idea's better." He stands, picking up her coat and holding it out for her, and she slips into the warmth, her fingers working on the buttons. Waiting beside her, Rick hunches, his fists in his pockets until she straightens, ready for the weather outside.

He extends an elbow toward her, and she hooks an arm through the gap, turning her lips up at the way the men in the room deflate in their chairs.

It's good to know that even after two kids she's still got it.

.

.

"Do you see what I see?" His whisper is almost harsh in her ear, and she draws herself away from his mouth before tracking his gaze. The sight of their target bent over a trash can, dry retching, causes her feet to trip.

No. Way.

"I should _help_ him. Make sure he's okay."

Nodding, Rick tilts his head toward a door several yards ahead, the pieces of wood that had boarded it closed half falling down.

"Meet you inside?"

"Yeah."

She reaches for the hair tie she'd put in after leaving the bar, shaking out the straight length as she undoes the buttons on her coat, tugging her dress a little lower.

Time to get this over and done with.

Long ago she used to speculate about the whys, wonder what a person had done to have a bulls eye placed on their back, would listen to Rick murmur stories in the dark about the horrible things their targets had done to others, justifying the reason for such lethal action in both their heads.

They haven't done that in years though. Life and death has become their norm.

For a second, she's curious, the way she used to be. But then it's gone.

"Are you okay?" Sliding her hand up and along Samuel's arched spine, she flutters her fingers across his cheek.

He shakes his head in response, both hands gripping the edge of the trash can, and she squeezes her palm under his armpit, heaving him upward.

"Here, let me help. Get you somewhere less… dirty."

Steering him toward the door that now lies semi-open, she uses both arms to hold him straight. Sure, he's a little crooked, but she has him mostly vertical.

"I'm o-_kay._" His head drops as he pronounces the kay, and she huffs under her breath, her fingers tightening, preventing his pitch to the left.

"Yep, you're doing great. But how about we get you seated somewhere while we wait for the world to stop spinning."

His head lists forward another inch, his body leaning even more with his actions, before he stands abruptly, bucking himself backwards, and beads of sweat form along her nape. Plan B will involve killing him on the sidewalk if he doesn't stop with the bobbing motion.

At least his feet are moving.

"Did you make the world spin?" His question is more slur than words and she tilts her head toward him, attempting to hear better.

Something's wrong.

Rick calls it his spidey sense, the moment a shiver runs down an agent's spine, the short hairs on their arms standing to attention. She's experienced the feeling before - not that she has given it a farcical name - and shit always proceeds to rain down as a result.

Then again, lately she's been having it every other day.

"Is your world spinning?" Her target blubbers on about his moving universe and she stands taller, her stare traveling the length of the road. Everything is quiet, the background noise of Portland normal for this time of night.

Yet, her heartbeat escalates.

.

.

She shoves him through the door, her back holding the crumbling wood wide enough open to get him through as her eyes dart between the darkness inside the room and the dim street, still aglow with the occasional overhead light.

"What's in here?" Samuel pushes off from her, tripping over his feet, the shadows swallowing him around the edges, and she shrugs, scanning the sidewalk one last time before closing the door.

"Hopefully a seat."

The noise of feet scuffing on the concrete and a thump of wood toppling, sound from where she'd last spotted her target, and she narrows her eyes at the darkness.

Maybe she'll be lucky and he'll trip and break his neck by accident.

"I can't see a thing."

Well, that was wishful thinking.

"Give me a second."

Reaching into her coat, she pulls out her flashlight, runs her thumb over the button, wasting time. Rick should have been back here, should have used the lack of light to his advantage, and yet, she continues to hear Samuel lumbering through the building's leftover furniture.

"Shit."

She presses down on the switch, aiming the beam to where she can hear his curse, the crash of glass so much louder in the dark-

Твою мать!

The lights from above flood the room and she closes her eyes, the blinding flash piercing straight through her head. Lifting an arm, she shields her face, squinting as she attempts to see what the hell has happened…

Rick stands motionlessly in the center of the room, his fingers interlocked on top of his head, and she pushes her eyelids shut, before opening them.

He's still there though, his stare focused straight ahead, his lips compressed.

And she reaches to the small of her back for her weapon.

The weapon she doesn't have.

Fuck.

.

.

"Hello, Katherine."

The voice behind her sends a river of ice water down her spine, and she spins around. Suzanne leans against the warped doorframe - how was it opened without her realizing? - a gun in her hand, and Kate slides her foot back.

"I don't think so, dear." The barrel drifts toward Rick, the unhurried, relaxed slump to Suzanne's aim creating alarm bells. Very loud, obnoxious alarm bells.

"What's going on here?" Of all the stupid questions to ask a person with a gun, that one must sit in the top five, but her training seems to have slithered out the crack of the doorway, her common sense apparently chasing after it.

"Nothing, Katherine. There's nothing to worry about." Suzanne's smile, the draw of her lips revealing her stained and uneven teeth, contradicts her platitude, and Kate curls her fingers into fists, pushing her chin higher.

Looks the devil in the eye.

"You have a gun on me, so forgive me if I don't quite believe that."

"It's not on you, dear, it's on Richard. He's coming home with us."

The air within the room disappears, and Kate gasps, opening her eyes wider as she stares at her husband. The disbelief coursing through her is mirrored on his face, his expression one of shock, his eyebrows nearly to his hairline.

"I'm _what_?"

"Coming home. A simple re-patriotism. Think of it as a refresher in your training."

Pivoting toward Suzanne, her body swaying at the declaration, Kate smothers her mouth, her fingers silencing the sob. No. This can't be happening.

There is no coming back from this. _He's _not coming back from this. She's heard the horror stories, the sudden disappearances. She's comforted family members who've never seen their loved ones again.

Loved ones… they're about to take her husband, the father of her children.

The man who kisses the spot on her brow when she concentrates too hard.

The man who looks at her and actually sees who she is. Who she wants to be.

Someone who's better than this.

"No!"

Her violent outburst rocks her back a step, the shock at what she's yelled, the traitorous notion that has burst from her lips shaking her to her core, and she's not the only one.

Suzanne's gun veers toward Kate, the older woman's jowls sagging another inch as her jaw drops, her forehead shrinking as her crooked eyebrows jump.

But it's not Suzanne's astonishment that steals Kate's focus, it's her husband's.

Her name shatters from his lips, breaking in half on the concrete between them, his shoulders slumping, and she fights against the tears threatening to escape.

With one word she's just signed her own death warrant.

"She doesn't mean it." Rick's stare pierces her heart, his eyes pleading with her. "I'll go. It's fine. Right. Whatever I did, Kate wasn't involved. It's fine."

No. No. This isn't fine. This isn't right.

He hasn't been disloyal. He's not a traitor to the Motherland. He-

Oh.

He's fallen in love with her.

Closing her eyes, she sifts through his actions of late; the breakfast in bed, the coffees delivered without request, the flowers… to her they were - eventually - innocent acts, a reaction to finding out that she'd screwed up and had kept a secret from him for years.

Maybe even the actions of a man who was trying to woo his wife after the abyss of married life placed them on different continents.

But the Center seems to have put two and two together, and it appears they were closer to the truth than she ever was.

"Kate, tell them it's fine."

Whipping her head from side to side, she strides toward him, ignores Suzanne's shout from behind her, ignores the screaming in her head that she's about to end up with a bullet in the back, ignores-

The click of the safety switch releasing sounds next to her ear, the cold ring of the muzzle butting into her temple stops her completely, and she peers out the corner of her eye without moving a muscle.

She'd forgotten about Samuel.

.

.

"Not another step, darling." He shoves the gun further into her skin, and she jerks her head away, the pain flaring.

Bastard.

It's then that it hits her, not the weapon but his words. Clear, concise, not a slur on a syllable, and if she could kick herself for her own stupidity she would.

There was no alcohol on his breath as he'd drunkenly launched himself beside her. That's what her spider senses were trying to tell her as they'd entered the building, an odd sock she hadn't even noticed in her rush to finish the job.

There's no such thing as a coincidence, after all.

"This was all a trap then. The trip here. The job. You just wanted us… What? Far from home? Close to a port?"

It wouldn't be the first time an enemy was bundled up and thrown aboard a vessel heading to Russia.

Except they're not the enemy. They're loyal citizens. Hard working agents. A family trying to do the best that they can.

And she comes back to the truth.

This isn't fine, and this isn't right. The Center is turning on them, not the other way around.

She lifts the palm of her right hand up toward Samuel's forearm as she aims low with her left fist, the punch to his gut lightning fast. He doubles over and her fingers join around his wrist, twisting the bones, the crack satisfying.

More importantly, she wrenches the gun from him, aiming the barrel at his head. "Move and I shoot."

He nods, taking a step back and she tightens her finger on the trigger, lifting an eyebrow. Does he really want to fuck with her at the moment?

"Katherine." The steel in Suzanne's voice is like nails on a chalkboard and Kate inhales through her nose. "Put the gun down. You can't take us both out."

Shifting her grasp on the gun, the sweat slides along the lines of her palm, but she continues to stare at Samuel, her eyes narrowed as she drives down the rising fear.

She can't take them both out…

Can she?

The sound of the first bullet hurtling through the barrel roars through the room, a thousand times louder than any other time she's fired a gun, but she's angling away from him before he begins to fall, already pointing the muzzle at Suzanne.

She presses the trigger again.

Her handler slumps to the ground, a puppet falling in on itself, and a hush floods the room, the quiet deafening after the noise of three shots fired in such a closed space.

Three.

That isn't right.

.

.

Hopefully that translates to Motherfucker, I didn't realise that I'd slipped into Russian again, lol.

Also, thank you to all for the wonderful support, I truly appreciate your words xoxo

.

Thank you to Jo and Jamie for being my support xoxo

.

Thank you for reading xoxo


	9. Chapter 9

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Motherland

.

On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe.

.

Chapter Nine

.

.

Kate spins, the gun falling from her fingers, and she cups both hands over her mouth, holding back the scream.

It doesn't work, the noise exploding from her lips.

"_Rick!"_

Flying across the room, she tumbles to a stop several feet from his body, crashing to her knees, the glass scattered over the concrete floor carving lines into her flesh, blood seeping from the ribbons of skin and stockings, and she stares stupidly at her legs. She's never really felt the cold in America, always been happy to forgo pants in the heart of winter, more's the pity, they probably would have softened the blow.

Nothing will soften this one.

She can't lift her head. Can't close the gap between them. Can't confirm her fear.

He's not moving, she can see that much in her peripheral; his arm lies limp, fingers outstretched toward her, and she closes her eyes, droplets of water landing with a patter onto her jagged knees.

Oh, she's crying.

Shuffling forward, she reaches for his chest, squeezing her eyelids tighter. If she doesn't see the evidence of his death, then it's not real, he's fine… right?

Her hand stutters, the stickiness of the blood on his shirt clinging to her fingers, the heat of his body such a juxtaposition to the cold that shakes her to the core, shock over this disastrous night overwhelming her nerves.

He's so still and she curls her fingers at his shoulders, rocking into him as another sob claws its way out her throat.

And then he moves.

"Rick?!" Opening her eyes, she grasps each side of his collared shirt, thankful that his jacket already hangs limp at his sides, and tearing it open, buttons take flight as she spreads the material apart, her fingers searching through the blood that's beginning to cover his upper body.

There's a shift in his abdomen, the muscles of his stomach expanding as he exhales, and she breathes with him, finally releases the air that's been trapped since she'd pulled the trigger on Samuel and Suzanne.

"Rick? Rick? I need you to open your eyes, babe." Fuck she's becoming desperate if she's using his public pet name in private. "Rick. Please. Please, open your eyes for me."

Think, damn it. Think.

Bullet hole.

Tugging her coat from her shoulders, she swipes the material across his chest, attempts to find the wound but her stare hitches on the overwhelming red, and her vision blurs, the lack of oxygen coursing through her body distorting everything before her.

Shit, she has to get herself under control.

A sputtered groan from his lips confirms he's alive, and she chants his name, straddling his waist, the pain in her knees flaring up her thighs as she supports her weight. Where the hell is the blood coming from?

And why isn't he waking up?

Working on his shirt, she pushes it up and off his left shoulder, the slick of red heavier on this side compared to the right, and he jerks under her, the moan of "Kate" stabbing like a knife straight through her heart.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Rick." For the pain she's causing him. For being responsible for his anguish. If she'd never fired the first shot, he wouldn't be dying beneath her. "I have to find the bullet wound. I have to stop the bleeding."

He can't die on her.

"Head hur-_tsss_."

Huh?

"You've been hit in the chest. I-" Lifting her coat from where she swiped his skin, the path recedes quickly, the blood merging to cover the gap she's created, but she spots the jagged hole underneath his clavicle, and ripping a section from the bottom of her dress with her teeth, she plugs the wound as best she can.

Thank God it's inches above his heart.

"I found it, Rick. I found it." She inhales, the relief slumping her forward. "It's going to be okay, everything will be okay. You just have to stay awake. Just stay awake."

Slipping her hand behind his shoulder, she runs her fingers high along his back, hunts for an exit wound. Fuck, if she has to dig around for a bullet…

The hole is closer to his shoulder, a fraction larger and she closes her eyes, the blood thick on her skin. At least it's out.

"Rick, I have to lift you. I need to stop the bleeding here."

She withdraws her hand, rocking back onto her knees, her eyes slipping closed for a second at the pain, but he doesn't reply, and she reaches for his face.

"Rick?" There's no answer, no twitch, no movement, and she pats his cheek.

There's no response.

"Rick. No. No, you need to wake up." Panic explodes in her chest, the roar in her ears deafening, and she shakes his shoulders. Why isn't he reacting? "Rick. Don't you dare leave me. You can't. Rick?"

This isn't it.

It can't be.

.

.

The sky had been clear, the sun obnoxiously bright above her, and she'd closed her eyes against the glare, agitated that the weather was so glorious for such an event. Rain would have been more appropriate, would have matched her mood to a T.

"Kate."

She'd turned toward his voice, opening her eyes. He'd smiled wide, beaming, and the joy in his features raked across her nerves, irritating her more than the sunshine.

"Yes?"

"It's your turn." He'd tilted his head toward their joined hands, and she'd done her best to grin, hoping that the witnesses couldn't tell that it was faked.

She needed to work on that, practice being happy, needed to sell the lie better if they had any chance of surviving here.

America.

Pushing the ring onto his finger, Kate had parroted the priest's lines, her vows generic. Anything that made today easier.

One week into her assignment and the panic of what she was about to do had only escalated.

It wasn't the work, or the targets she'd be assigned that worried her. She had graduated top of her class and was the youngest woman in her division to be tasked with assassinations while living here.

It was the fact that she was currently marrying a man she'd only met six days ago, that she would - most likely - be living with him for the rest of her life.

She'd be expected to have a family with him, carry on the façade of loving him.

How the hell was she supposed to do that?

Love was for the weak, her father had taught her that. Her mother's death had landed him at the bottom of a vodka bottle, useless and unable to function, and Kate had sworn as she'd walked away from him the last time - his drunken rant that she'd wind up just like Johanna ringing in her ears - that she would never allow emotions to rule over common sense and good judgment. She would never allow anyone past the bricks she'd carefully placed around herself. Would never be hurt in such a way.

And yet, here she was, pledging her life to another.

Not that being forced to marry would change her; the Center's mantra that love was never allowed suited her perfectly.

Rick would be her husband in name, but he'd never have her heart.

.

.

"Rick?" She hooks her arm under his neck, supporting his torso as much as she can, and, arching backwards, she attempts to lift him into a sitting position.

Attempts and fails; her husband's a dead weight.

He lies motionless, and her body shudders above his as she arches up and off his chest, her fists pounding into her thighs, fear coiled like a band around her torso.

He's going to die.

He's going to die and the wall she'd been so determined to hide behind, the one protecting her heart, crumbles at her feet, the truth slapping her hard.

"Rick. Please." Cupping his face, she touches her forehead to his, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Please, Rick, I love you. I love you. Please, don't leave me."

A warmth flutters across her lips, a soft caress of air, and she opens her eyes, staring at his mouth. He's breathing, still, and she sobs, the side of her face dropping heavily onto his.

"Ugh. Head."

She draws her eyebrows together - it's the second time he's groaned that - and with a caresses as light as she can manage, her hands trembling with dread, she slides the tips of her fingers over his scalp.

"Owww. Stop. Damn, Kate."

Jerking her hands back, she swears under her breath, snatching at her own hair. What has she done?

What has _he_ done?

"Rick. I need you to sit up. I have to stop the bleeding."

Whatever is wrong with his head will have to wait. The pool of blood grows beneath him, and while it no longer seems to be flowing as freely as it was a minute ago, she's not losing him over this. She's not prepared to lose him for anything.

She's fallen for him, given him her heart, and now he'll leave her?

No!

Grabbing the sides of his jacket, she propels herself backward again, a scream ripping from her chest as she heaves him up, and, flinging her arms around his shoulders, she holds him still. His head lists forward, dropping into the angle of her neck, but there's a brush of his breath against her skin, a trace of his lips shifting against her.

He's still alive.

She shoves her coat between his shirt half hanging off his left shoulder and the exit wound, locking her forearms over the makeshift padding, and she squeezes him, her gaze searching the room for something to use as a bandage.

It's then that she sees the crate.

.

.

The wood lies in shattered pieces, the square shape caved in on one side as if a bowling ball had been dropped on half of it, and she sinks forward an inch in relief.

"Rick, did you hit your head?"

"Head." He mumbles into her ear, sagging further into her body, and she huffs out a laugh.

Here she is pleading for him not to die, and he has a concussion - even if it appears to be a severe one.

"Is no fun-_ny_, Kate."

Craning sideways, she brushes her lips across his forehead. His eyes stay shut, but the corner of his mouth lifts a fraction, and she _gently_ dots another kiss between his brows.

"It's not funny at all, Rick, but you're going to be okay."

The cops will arrive eventually, the sound of three gun shots won't be ignored forever, and his wounds require sterilizing and strapping, and they both need to get the blood off them, and the Center will be after them…

Her eyes close, the side of her face hovering over his.

What she wants more than anything is a scalding shower where she can sit and sob until there are no more tears left, until the image of him unconscious beneath her disappears.

"Don't cry, Kate."

His hand blindly strokes her cheek, his fingers blurring the trails that run in lines down her face, and she sniffs, pulling back.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay. But we have to get out of here Rick. I have to get you up onto your feet."

He nods a fraction, the groan reverberating through his chest as he comes to a halt against her body, and she tightens her grip on his shoulders, pushing her head sideways to trap his into the angle of her neck. It may be a bad makeshift brace, but it will have to do.

"I'm going to squat above you, help you get up." If she can lift as he helps himself to stand, this may work.

"Kinky."

Rolling her eyes at his foolishness - even at a time like this - she softly counts back from three, forcing them to rise as she hits one. She bites down on her bottom lip as her body protests under his weight, her legs trembling with the strain, and he yelps into her ear, harsh and loud at the pain that must flare with moving. They can't stop though, sirens are sounding in the distance, and the noise is enough for her to pull harder, heaving even as she trembles from head to toe.

And then they're standing - granted he's hunched and she's propping them both up - but they're vertical.

Now what the fuck does she do?

Where the hell can she take him?

.

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I would send cookies and cakes if I could, you are all incredibly kind with your support and I truly appreciate it!

.

Thank you to Jo and Jamie for whipping me into shape xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

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Motherland

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On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe.

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Chapter Ten

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.

"I think I'm going to be sick, Kate."

She angles away from the back door, her hand raised mid tap as she stares at Rick, his body swaying next to the tree she'd propped him against, and her nails dig into her palm, indecision settling heavily onto her shoulders as the need to get them inside battles with the desire to rush to his aid.

"Just stay upright. Please."

She can handle vomit - she couldn't have raised two children and not be used to _that_ \- but if he falls over, he will be staying there. All her energy, even the reserves of her energy, were sapped as she'd dragged them through the back streets of Portland trying to find a needle in a haystack.

Actually, it was a phonebook and a name, but it has left her with the same sense of lethargy.

"My head hurts."

Sighing, she abandons the knocking, forcing aside the paranoia that they are being watched, and, scurrying to his side, she curls her arms around him, her hand checking the make shift bandage she'd made after sneaking into a nightclub's restroom.

Her training on how to handle this type of situation was impressive, and she'd learnt early on how to improvise with basic everyday items to get an agent to a safe house and off the streets.

Granted it's a little ironic that she's using this knowledge to avoid the same people who had taught her the very skills…

"Who's there?" The cautious whisper from the doorway behind Kate catches her by surprise, and she reaches for the knife originally strapped to Rick's ankle - not that it had done him any good - the weapon now secured to her upper thigh.

"Jessica?"

"Kate?"

Releasing the handle and leaving the blade in its sheath, she steps out of the shadows, the light flickering on from inside the house bright against the black of night, and she lifts a hand shielding her eyes.

"It's just me. Well, Rick too. We need your help, Jessica."

.

.

She had twirled the letter between her fingers, in and out as she waited, the public restrooms deserted at this time of night. No one was out and about in Portland's playgrounds, no one except those who required anonymity.

"Kate?"

Snapping her fingers together, she'd spun toward the high-pitched voice, Jessica's head poking around the entrance way, and Kate had nodded, indicating for the younger woman to come in.

"It's just us here."

Jessica had rushed inside, her black hair bouncing as she reached for the letter, and ripping it open, the tears had begun.

"Oh, Kate, Anna isn't home. She never arrived."

The white paper had fallen onto the dirty floor, the contrast in colors holding Kate's gaze as she'd reached for Jessica, pulling the weeping girl into her arms.

There was nothing she could say - she could hardly believe it herself - how could Anna's loyalty to Russia ever be doubted? How could a few words from a dissatisfied husband lead to her being transported home?

Except according to the letter Kate had received from Jessica's aunt, who had retrieved it from her grieving brother, Anna was never taken home for repatriation.

"Thank you, Kate. I know you could get into so much trouble, and especially when you've had to travel here, but thank you." Jessica had wrapped her in a hug, squeezing tight, tears still sliding down her cheeks, and Kate had held her, still unable to offer anything in return.

"My sister always spoke so highly of you, not just as a fellow agent but as a friend. Promise me, Kate that if you need anything, just ask. My family is indebted to you."

.

.

"Do you have enough bandages? Whiskey? I can't believe we don't have Hydrogen Peroxide to clean out his wounds. Even vodka would be better than this shit."

Taking the bottle out of Jessica's hands, Kate flashes her a grin. "Thank you, and it's better than the nothing I had on hand."

"I suppose so. But what happened? How did Rick get shot?" Jessica's gaze travels across his bare chest, her tongue swiping her bottom lip as she halts for a moment, and Kate narrows her eyes. While her husband's biceps stop her in her tracks routinely, she's not used to them having the same effect on others.

"We were-" She opens her mouth, the explanation of their horrific night perched, but then Jessica looks up, her stare oddly intent, and Kate swallows. "Caught in a bad neighborhood. Wrong place, wrong time. Anyway, we'll get out of here as soon as we can."

It's easier this way - concealing the truth is second nature - and less of a risk for Jessica, for them, if the Center comes looking.

Her old friend shakes her head as she drops the blankets and pillows onto the mattress she'd dragged into the back room, toys shoved to the side of what must be the kids' play room. "Stay as long as you need, Kate. Troy has the children this weekend."

She startles at the news, her fingers pushing into the bruised area surrounding Rick's entrance wound and he puffs out a curse. Muttering a sorry, she hunches back on her heels, her gaze meeting Jessica's.

"You guys are… divorced?" The astonishment in her question no doubt mirrors her expression. Jessica and her Center-assigned husband broke up and lived to tell the tale?

"Yes. Three years ago. It's been... Okay."

Kate flickers a glance around the room, the likelihood of them being recorded always present, but Jessica shakes her head, giving her the all clear.

"And the Center?"

Jessica shrugs, studying her nails, her lips blanched into white lines.

"Troy got remarried, she's Russian, not an agent though, works at the port, shuffles papers when they need it. They don't care, as long as we do the job, and it fits. Seems like divorce is the new 'in thing' for America. We were the second family in Jan's class. When she started this September, she said there were four."

Kate screws up her forehead, biting her bottom lip. As much as she and Rick had been drifting apart, she'd never even thought about going down that path. When she said her vows she hadn't meant them, but she sure as hell wasn't going to break them either.

"There really weren't any repercussions from…" She trails off as Rick squeezes her hand. She doesn't want to bring up bad memories for Jessica, she just can't get her head around the fact that it's apparently fine to tear apart their cover, but to actually fall in love with a spouse ends in bloodshed! "Sorry. And we'll leave before the sun is up. We want to get back as soon as we can."

She'd called home after they'd located Jessica's address in the directory, making up a lie to Meagan about the gas company reporting an issue with the pipes, and if she could wake Alexis and Jay, and take them to her own house as it would be safer for all. Thankfully their babysitter had agreed without any questions like how the company was able to track them down in the first place? And what exactly was wrong with the house?

Now they just have to get back to Scarsdale without being spotted.

And without Rick blacking out on her again.

"No, stay. It will give me- we can catch up over breakfast. There's no rush after all." A smile tugs at Jessica's lips, her stare traveling across Rick and Kate lifts a shoulder, agreeing to nothing.

Home is what they need.

.

.

She reaches for his hips, her fingers curled at the top of his pants, and, jerking as smoothly as she can, Kate relieves him of the material, leaving him bare chested and in his boxers.

"Will you be cold?"

They have two comforters thanks to Jessica and the warmth inside the house spreads comfortably into the back room, but he's lost a lot of blood, and his skin under the camping lamp they'd been given - she'd been too paranoid to turn on the overhead one - appears dreadfully pale.

"No. I'm okay." Rick pats the space beside him, grimacing as he moves and she steps to his side, her hand brushing over his chest. She'd strapped his left bicep to his torso in the hope of immobilizing his entire side, but clearly she should have bandaged all the way down to his fingers.

"Keep still. It will hurt."

"It already does." His eyes close, his lips narrowing. The last few hours shadow his features, the grooves on his face appearing more chiseled and she smoothes the tips of her fingers across his brow as if she could rid the crevices with her touch alone.

But this isn't a fairytale and she no longer believes in happily ever after.

Did she ever?

Shaking off the melancholy of the hour, she stands, stripping down to her panties before donning the sleepwear Jessica had left behind. It's all lace and as stiff as a board and Kate wrinkles her nose, her nails picking at the tiny holes that dot the gown.

"Sexy."

She glares as she turns, arching an eyebrow, and his free shoulder shrugs, his lips turning up in one corner.

He can smirk all he wants in that cute way that he does, but it doesn't make what he's saying true.

"There's nothing sexy about this. And even if there was, you could hardly do anything about it."

Shifting forward, he apparently tries to prove her wrong. He can't though, and he falls backward onto the mattress with a groan.

She forces herself not to poke out her tongue at his antics - she's right and he should just accept that - and her hands reach for the bedding. Pulling it over his body, she flips off the lamp, crawling in beside him.

"Go to sleep, Rick, before it's time to get up and get going."

Tomorrow is already upon them, and the decisions she's very purposely not focusing on will have to be made.

Where the hell do they go to from here?

"It hurts."

He rolls off his left shoulder, turning to face her in the dark, the soft whine to his statement enough to leave her huffing as she pushes her lips together, definitely _not_ smiling.

She's just thankful to have him here and able to whine, because for a moment there...

"Here, use me as a pillow and put yours behind you so you'll stay on your right side tonight."

Inching higher on the mattress, she shifts until his head is in line with her chest, and wiggling an arm underneath his neck, she supports his move onto her body, his face nestling between her breasts.

"Mmmmm." He hums softly as he nuzzles into her, his scruff rasping against the harsh fabric of her nightgown, back and forth, and she lifts a hand, her fingers stilling his little dance.

"It's too scratchy, Kate."

His words are all whine again, and she rolls her eyes as she grins above his head, the cover of darkness concealing her amusement.

Last month, hell last week, she would have snapped out an irritated retort, hunched her shoulders and retreated to her side of the bed. The idea of keeping herself at arm's length, of keeping him from truly digging his way into her heart, was something that she clung to like a shield holding the dragon at bay.

Rick was never the enemy though; tonight was irrefutable evidence of that.

He'd been willing to leave with Suzanne, even knowing the fate that awaited him, he'd been prepared to take the punishment, had pleaded to save her life, had taken a bullet because of her actions, and why?

Was that the definition of love? To be risk everything for another?

Hadn't she, when she'd refused to leave him? When she'd shot two agents of the Center? When she'd shared the target that was on his back?

Closing her eyes, she exhales through her nose, the sound the only one in the room besides Rick's fidgeting on her chest, and blinking away the threat of tears, she eases herself from underneath him, using her pillow to brace his head and shoulder.

"I didn't mean it, Kate. It's not that bad."

She stands quickly, shedding herself of the horrible nightgown, and, tossing it toward the end of the bed, she climbs back in, rearranging them into their original position.

Her husband draped over her body, his ear above her heart.

"I like this so much better, though." His lips drift across her breast, a feather like caress as his body becomes heavier, each breath deeper than the last, and she cranes herself forward, dotting her own kiss carefully onto his hair.

"Hhmmm, lo-_ve_ you." A soft snore rumbles through his chest, his words more a mutter than a sentence, and a tear breaks its way free, sliding from the corner of her eye, tracking a salty path down the side of her face, and she's forced to swallow the lump obstructing her throat.

"I love you, too, Rick."

And he snores again in response.

.

.

My apologies for the lateness of this chapter and for the lack of replies, camping with the children came with non-existent WiFi, I should be right from now until home though.

I am so grateful for each of your messages, thank you xoxo

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for being epic xoxo

.

Thank you for reading xoxo


	11. Chapter 11

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Motherland

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On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe.

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Chapter Eleven

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Kate hits the indicator, veering the stolen car to her left as she curses under her breath. They started at four in the morning and the traffic has done nothing but steadily increase with each passing minute, her frustration rising with the fact that their four hour plus drive from Portland to Scarsdale is only half done.

Where's the vat of coffee her body whines for?

"Are we stopping for breakfast?" Rick fidgets from his side of the bench seat, his head swaying as she accelerates back into the right hand lane, but his gaze never wavers from the front window. He's barely made eye contact since she woke him at Jessica's, sneaking out before the light of dawn approached.

"Uh, yeah, we can if you need to." Driving straight through to their kids tugs at her heart, but considering last night, if he wants to stop, they're stopping.

"No. I just..." Silence completes his sentence and she angles her head as best she can while driving, attempts to read his features.

But the darts between the road and his face reveal nothing.

"Rick?" Snapping her mouth closed, she tightens her fingers on the steering wheel. She shouldn't pry, has never done so before, has always pushed down the urge to enquire when he drifts off, always letting the words go unsaid, because she's been too afraid of… what? Caring? Loving? Giving into emotions?

Too late for that now... She's crashed, and the landing was spectacular.

"Rick, we can stop if you need to."

His gaze jerks up to meet hers and she maintains their connection for as long as she can, until tearing herself away, she glances toward I-290. Car after car clog the road until she finally gets a break, and, shifting her attention back to him, she sighs.

He's looking out his window once again.

Fifteen years of her standing at arm's length isn't going to be solved in one day, especially when she hasn't exactly told him how she'd panicked when he was shot, her heart screaming to a halt when he'd kept blacking out. How in that moment life without him was so clear that she would have done anything to stop it. How she realized that it wasn't love that made her weak, it was living the lie that she felt nothing at all.

"I'm fine, Kate."

She bites her bottom lip, swallowing the huff of indignation - that's her line and it never means she's fine - her gaze searching for somewhere to pull off the interstate, but as opportunity after opportunity flies by, she slumps in the bench seat.

Damn she's a coward.

.

.

"We probably only have an hour left." She fills the subdued hush in the car, the quick glance at her wristwatch informing her that it's now past seven. "Hopefully the kids will still be at Meagan's."

His head drops, his chin bouncing against his chest and she exhales loudly. Why can't she just say something? Anything? They need to talk about what happened. And about what's going to happen next.

"I'm sorry, Kate."

The car veers to the left as she twists to face Rick, his soft apology such a surprise, and she stares for a second.

Until common sense kicks in and she rights the car, her eyes searching the side of the road.

Finding a spot - and before she can second-guess herself on what she's about to do - she pulls over, twisting the keys off and silencing the motor.

Just what they need, more quiet...

Enough.

"For what? What could you be sorry about?" A fire in her stomach ignites, the anger over what Suzanne had tried to do, what the country that she'd believed in had tried to do, flaring, the spark racing along her veins.

"For this mess. I'm sorry for-"

"No!"

He jumps, his features contorting as his shoulder smacks into the seat behind him, and she lifts a hand, her fingers urging him to keep still.

"Please don't _ever _apologize for being who you are, Rick. You love your children and-" She closes her eyes, inhaling all the courage she can before meeting his stare straight on. "And you love me. So don't say you are sorry for that. Don't apologize because your behavior changed and _they_ didn't like it. Because all you were doing was your best at trying to tell me something that I was too blind to see."

His mouth opens, and she brushes her fingers across his lips. If she doesn't finish this now, she may never have the strength to say it again.

"I know, I've probably always known that you wanted more for our marriage than what I was willing to give in return, and I don't quite understand why you've changed recently, the flowers and the breakfast in bed, holding hands in private and the sweet little things, but-"

She can do this, can explain that she was wrong to follow the Center so blindly, to keep him at a distance just because she was afraid to hurt like she had when her mother had died, when her father had all but turned his back on her because he loved his wife so much.

"Kate, I've been sneaking out of the house and disappearing from work to arrange an escape."

His words rush out, one after the other, the sentence tripping over itself and she draws her eyebrows together, opening and closing her mouth as she attempts to decipher what he's blurted out.

"Huh?"

.

.

The back of her neck slaps the seat, her hands dropping as she curls them into fists. He was planning an escape? Planning to leave?

"You don't want to be with me- _us_, anymore?"

How is she going to tell the kids? How did she read this all so wrong?

Some agent she is.

"No. Kate, no." He reaches for her, moving sideways, but then his face crumbles, both of his hands falling to his thighs. "I was organizing an escape for us all, in case Helen went to the authorities about what she'd seen. In case the Center found out that she witnessed the assassination and lived."

Oh, Rick.

She climbs into his lap, and using the bench seat to support her knees, she hovers above him, her gaze steadfast on his.

"I don't know what to say. I don't…" She closes the gap between them, her fingers drifting across his cheeks as she rests her forehead on his. He's the one who talks to the kids when they need advice; he's the one with the words, the feelings.

She's nothing more than an empty shell, faking everything and failing at it all.

"I can't lose you, Kate. And it's okay that you don't feel the same way, I resigned myself a long time ago that being your partner in marriage, at work, would be enough, but…"

"Rick-"

He captures her mouth with his own, silencing her completely and she stalls for a second, drawing back, but he's chasing after her, the warmth of his body knocking into her chest, his free arm circling her shoulders and she caves, slanting into his lips, her heart breaking at the years that they've lost, the time they could have been more.

Pulling away, their lips part and she whispers into the space the three words she should have said a long time ago, should have let herself _feel _a long time ago.

"I love you."

"Kate?" He breathes her name, his gaze flickering in circles around her face and she lists forward, ghosting her nose along the ridge of his cheekbone.

"When they said they were going to take you back to the Motherland, when you wouldn't wake up because of me, because you'd been shot-"

"No, Kate, you saved me from them-"

"Suzanne shot you because of me, but Rick, when I saw you lying there..." She closes her eyes, the image of him not moving as clear as the morning sky above the car.

"I'm okay, Kate. Everything's going to be okay."

"But it's not. They're going to realize that I killed Suzanne and Samuel, they're going to come after us, and they'll kill us all."

Alexis and Jay, whom they've kept so separate from this life will be swept up in the tsunami of this disaster, destroyed alongside her and Rick without a second thought from Russia.

"Let me take you away, Kate, let's grab the kids and disappear. I have plans ready to go, new identities, a safe place for us to lay low for a little while until we decide what we want next. Together, Kate. We can do this together?"

She opens her eyes, staring into his as she traps her bottom lip, the pain bringing what he is saying, what he is asking into focus. It's not in her to run, to duck and hide, but how does she fight when it's not just her life at risk, not even just her and Rick?

If their children were caught in the crossfire she'd never forgive herself.

"I love you, Kate. And we can do this."

Nodding, she pushes her lips hard against his, shoving aside all the worry and concern about tomorrow, later today, about what she's going to tell the kids, how they are going to make it through this alive, and kissing him one more time, she rocks onto his thighs.

"Okay. Okay, let's do this."

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.

Shutting the car door behind her, Kate silences Alexis' questions, and she pauses for a moment, her rear resting on the hood as she angles her head upward, peering into the night sky.

It's cold, freezing no doubt, but the air is refreshing, bringing all her senses into high alert, ready for the task at hand.

Breaking into their own house undetected.

Before picking up the kids from Meagan's, they had half-heartedly argued about who was going to sneak into the house and retrieve the new identities that Rick had made and then hidden in their bathroom, the discussion remaining unresolved as they'd both claimed the task.

Alexis and her never ending questions throughout the day - attempting to see out the daylight hours by hiding in plain sight by taking a trip to the museum had frayed her nerves - had ended the back and forth with Rick. She'd rather deal with the Center than have to keep inventing half-truths to appease her daughter. Why had they bought an old bomb of a car? Why were they parked two blocks from home at eleven at night? Why couldn't they go inside?

Jay, at least, had fallen asleep in the back seat, his duffle bag apparently making a nice pillow.

Pushing off from the car, she clings to the shadows as much as she can, avoiding the streetlights as she stalks toward her house. The homes that she passes are mostly dark, but it doesn't stop her from darting a glance in every direction as she approaches, the hairs on the back of her nape rising.

Damn, it's like she's being watched...

Her shoes barely make a noise as she scurries past the last line of trees, the grass of her front lawn snapping underfoot as she runs toward her back door, her left hand holding Meagan's set of keys, her right curled around Rick's knife.

She's ready for an ambush. Ready to face whomever is waiting for them in their own home.

Unlocking the door, she halts for a second against the nearest wall, her eyes adjusting to the black inside and she strains as she listens for any clue as to where they may be lurking.

There's nothing though, no creak, no shadow, and she inches forward, sticking to the edges of the room as she heads for the stairs.

This is too easy...

She tiptoes up each step, her fingers beginning to ache around the knife's handle, and she forces herself to inhale, loosening her hand. A death grip won't help her in a fight; fluidity and flexibility will be the key to surviving.

Pausing outside her bedroom, she again waits, but there's only the silence of an empty house, and she darts inside, walking past their chest of drawers and into the bathroom.

There are items that call for her, pleading to be picked up and taken with, but as she grabs the plastic wrapped packet hidden inside the top half of the toilet, she shuts her ears to their siren song.

Her mother's wedding ring, the picture of her parents she had concealed within the coat she'd worn on the flight over to America. Alexis and Jay's baby albums, their tiny outfits and past awards, their treasured toys and favorite books.

Even the one and only picture from her and Rick's wedding cries its desire to come with them.

To not be abandoned to the house.

Shit, this sucks.

She shakes her head as she descends the stairs, the fingers of her left hand holding their future tight as she leaves their past behind, but as she reaches for the doorknob, the click of a gun sounds from behind her.

"Not another step, Kate."

Fuck.

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Thank you for being so supportive of this little adventure, your words of encouragement always leave such a smile, as does your threats of violence ;-)

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for not killing me for this one xoxo

.

Thank you for reading xoxo


	12. Chapter 12

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Motherland

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On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe.

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Chapter Twelve

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Kate twists her body, turning to face the intruder as she drops her jaw. Of all the people she'd expected to be standing there-

The list of enemies flits through her mind. Suzanne first and foremost, though her rational mind assures her the handler is dead. Samuel's face too, flares in her mind, as do the myriad of other people from the Center, all of whom are still alive.

No, she reallyhadn't thought she'd be caught unaware by _her_, and she can't stop the high pitched indignation that enters her voice as she exclaims aloud.

"Helen?"

"I know." Helen's hand trembles, the gun wobbling from side to side, and Kate inches her right foot forward. If she can get within striking distance this will all be over within seconds, but her neighbor reacts, the barrel stopping its shudder, fixing dead on her face.

"Don't move, Kate. I will use this."

Damn it.

"Okay. It's okay, I hear you. I'll keep still." At least for the moment.

Kate takes a deep breath, letting the air course through her veins, buying herself a moment to calm herself in anticipation of taking control, using every tool she has at her disposal - voice, body language, words - to gain the upper hand.

"But how about we go to your place?" She throws the authority into her voice, the quiet, calm suggestion deceptively convicting. "You'll feel more comfortable in your home."

Helen's eyes narrow, her distrust clear, and while she's right to be suspicious - Kate certainly has an alternative motive underlying her suggestion - it's for the best. They need to leave before anyone else arrives and turns this standoff into a circus.

"My garage. Head straight in there, Kate. Any running though, any noise, and I will kill you." Helen arches the gun dramatically toward the door, indicating their exit, and, raising both hands in surrender, Kate discards the knife onto the counter.

But she's not letting go of the package. The bitch can try and shoot her where she stands before _that _happens.

There's no demand for it to be released, and she edges toward the back door, tucking the envelope under her left elbow. Each step out of the house and across the lawn eases the tension in her chest, the coiled band relaxing its grip on her heart.

She can deal with the likes of Helen in her sleep - she's nothing more than a housewife who's lost the plot - it was the potential appearance of the Center that had eaten holes through her normally calm façade…

Except they didn't show up… but why not? Why weren't they, rather than Helen, waiting for her in the darkened kitchen?

Shaking her head, she dislodges the unnecessary concern, striding across the street that separates her home from Helen's. One thing at a time.

The garage door moans in the quiet of the night as Helen lifts the flat panel high enough to duck underneath, the gun in her hand gesturing for Kate to go first, and with a roll of her eyes, she creeps through the gap.

Wonderful…

Extending her right arm, her left squeezing her family's new identity to her ribs, she cautiously stumbles into the pitch black of the garage, her hand drifting from side to side. There's nothing in front of her though, and she continues to move into the space, the clang of the door shutting all the way ten times louder than normal and sounding almost like the final nail in a coffin.

"Any chance you could turn a light on? I'd hate to walk into your car."

"Is this a joke to you, Kate? Do you think this is funny?"

Sighing - Rick's ability to laugh in the face of anything serious may have rubbed off on her a little - Kate runs her fingers through her hair, the blunt ends of her nails cutting into her scalp.

"No. It's not funny. Nothing about this situation is funny. But what do you want from me? You showed up in my home, waved a gun in my face, and have now added kidnapping to the list, and yet I still have no idea why?"

"I want the truth."

The light from a naked bulb above flickers on and Kate lifts her right hand, shielding her eyes as she squints in the narrow space, attempting to map out every potential weapon. With a bit of luck it won't come to that, but she's not taking any chances; last night was an unfortunate demonstration of how quickly a situation can go to hell.

"What truth, Helen?"

"The truth about what you did to Thomas. How you killed him. How you nearly killed me." The gun shakes in the blonde's hand, her hair bouncing with each word as her voice rises in a shrill crescendo, and Kate snaps a glance toward the internal door.

"Is anyone home? Does John know what you're doing?"

Helen's mouth narrows, her lips blanching white, the flash of shame across her features enough of an explanation and Kate curls her fingers into a fist, bracing for what's about to happen.

"Right, so it's just the two of us then." Dropping her chin, she lowers herself onto an upturned crate. "Let's get this over with."

Rick has probably panicked by now, placed in the shitty position of either coming to find her or staying with their kids and her heart aches with the notion, her body slumping with fatigue. She sneaks a peek at her watch - the hands are approaching midnight - and whatever has to unfold can fall to the ground at her feet. Whatever Helen needs to hear she'll say, anything, as long as she can head back to her family in one piece.

"Why did you kill Thomas?" Helen lowers the gun an inch, her shoulders curling forward, the pain cracking her words in half, and Kate studies her fingernails, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Because I was ordered to. Because someone much higher in the chain of command deemed it so."

Because that's what she did - does - she kills the enemies, the bad guys, the ones who deserve it… right?

"The government? You're telling me the government wanted him dead, and you're what? Their trained assassin?"

Tilting her head up, Kate elevates an eyebrow, hides behind Helen's speculation. It was the government indeed, just not the government her neighbor assumes, but still, she's kind of correct.

"Oh." Helen slides down the wall of her garage, the gun dropping with a clang to the concrete floor, but Kate stays hunched on the upturned crate.

Their confrontation is over, even if only one of them realizes it.

Hell, there really wasn't much of a beginning.

"Did you know when you moved in here, Helen? Or…"

"No. I-" Strands of blond hair fall forward, hiding the other woman's face, and Kate waits her out, her lips pushed together as the silence stretches between them. "I was unpacking the box of baby albums and one fell open. It was a picture, a group shot of us by the water in Portland. It just hit me, where I'd seen your face."

Portland. Her life at the moment is nothing but a curse at that damned city.

Kate nods, swallowing the lump that's developing at a rapid rate. The memory from all those years ago, of Helen pleading for her baby's life, morphs with last night and her own cries for Rick to live.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I'm sorry that you were there, that you saw that." It's worth nothing to Helen, she doesn't need to read her neighbor's mind to know that, but it's all she has. "I really thought the house was empty beside us. I had watched and planned, and…"

It's her greatest fuck up, one that just keeps on continuing. Helen should have put a bullet between her eyes right now, Kate disappearing into the night without a backward glance, and yet, here she sits.

"We were having an affair. I had a key to the back door and would come and go without anyone knowing. I guess we hid it well."

Oh, fuck.

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.

The nothing expands, pushing the air to the corner of the garage as they remain on opposite sides of the room, unmoving, quiet.

"Don't tell John. Please. About the affair. About Nick, that he- our son… He doesn't know about any of it." Helen's choked request startles Kate, her head smacking into the wall behind her, and, lifting her fingers to the sore spot, she widens her eyes.

"I-" How in the world did this become about Helen's secrets and not about the fact that she's a killer? "Of course, Helen. I won't say a thing to John, to anyone."

Standing, Kate rubs her free hand on her thighs, glancing around the garage before repositioning the package. Well this is a little awkward; it's undoubtedly time to exit.

"And I can trust you with mine? I really had no choice. I wish-" She wishes for a thousand things; her mother to be alive, to be laughing with her father over their futbol team's success, that she'd met Rick in another life, to be someone other than who she is.

"Yes. I can't exactly go to the authorities when it was our government who…" Helen cradles her head, her disbelief scarring every word. This is better though. It's safer if she lets the past go with the notion that Thomas' death was out of their control, that the ones to blame are not in this room.

"Again, I'm sorry."

Without lifting her head, Helen waves her off, and, taking the break, Kate scurries for the garage door, pushing on the base. There's no looking back, not at her neighbor, and not at the past. What's done is done, and Rick and her children are somewhere, hopefully okay and waiting for her in the car.

Unless he's headed inside their home to find her…

Hovering beside the oak tree adorning her front yard, she gnaws on her thumbnail, her eyes staring at the blackened windows of their house. Would he come in search of her when she didn't return with the package?

What a stupid question.

Of course he would.

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"Rick." She hisses out his name from the back door, her gaze sweeping the interior of their kitchen, but she's greeted with silence, the house dark and foreboding.

Geez, she's becoming melodramatic again.

"Rick!" Trying once more and increasing her volume to a level that makes her inner agent shudder, she pauses before reaching for the knife she'd discarded after Helen's surprise visit.

"Kate?"

Swinging around, the weapon in her hand, she confronts the newest intruder. Thankfully it's her husband and she tosses his blade and the package onto the counter, throwing both of her arms around his shoulders.

He catches her, a soft grunt ruffling her hair - shit, his shoulder - his fingers gripping the material at her spine as he holds her tight to his chest, and she buries her face into the crook of his neck, her hands snagging his hair, anchoring herself to the reality that it's him.

"Are you okay?" he mumbles in her ear and she nods, closing her eyes for a moment.

She just needs a second to be, to stop and not think after the craziness of the last hour.

"Kate, we need to go. The kids are by themselves, I just- you were gone so long. And who knows who could pop up out of nowhere."

Laughter spills from her lips, and he detangles himself out of her hold, his eyebrows almost meeting as he furrows his forehead. It's not funny, except that this whole night kind of is.

"Long story." Snatching the package off the counter, she slips her fingers in between Rick's, leading him out their back door, ignoring the way his mouth opens and closes wordlessly.

She'll explain everything- once they are far, far away from here.

Jogging as one, they make it to the car, his fingers squeezing hers before he lets go, and, flashing a smile in his direction, she tugs on the passenger door, actually happy for once to let him drive.

Her nerves are shot; the confrontation with Helen, the panic over finding Rick, and the anticlimax of the Center's absence...

With her fingers wrapped around the handle she halts, turning to stare into the black abyss that surrounds the car, an internal whisper cutting through the quiet.

Why didn't they show up? Surely they know about Suzanne and Samuel's deaths by now, know that Rick was never taken and transported for his "trip" to Russia.

Why wasn't there an ambush?

Why are they still alive?

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Thank you again for sticking with this story, we are sliding down the slippery slope to the end now!

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for fitting this into their hectic lives xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	13. Chapter 13

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Motherland

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On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe.

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Chapter Thirteen

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Her son's quiet snores are audible through the door that connects their motel rooms, and the sound reassures her that their children are with them, are okay. Shifting onto her side, Kate stretches out, attempts to match her breaths with Jay's.

Attempts to fall asleep.

Jay had barely stirred when Rick had placed him in one of the twin beds, even Alexis had closed her eyes seconds after her head had touched the pillow, the long night finally catching up with their eldest. Alexis' questions about what was going on had been replaced with a stony glare directed mostly at Kate after she'd returned with Rick from their... _adventure_, and with little choice they'd turned toward a neighboring town, leaving their home and their belongings in the exhaust fumes of the crumbling bomb of a car.

Their old life over.

They have to start again, on the run, wanted by the Center, with two children who know nothing about their parents' secrets, only a package of new identities to keep them alive, and she squeezes her fingers into fists by her head, each nail indenting half-circles into her palm.

Breathe, Kate. In and out.

Rick rolls in their bed, the shitty mattress dipping her side with his movements, and she fights to remain still, to stay curled up and looking away from him.

She's already sliding back into old habits.

"Are you awake?"

He must have turned toward her; his whisper ghosts across the naked angle of her neck, goose bumps rising in the wake, and she closes her eyes, her stoic past battling with her heart.

"Yeah."

Dropping onto her back, she peers up at her husband. His elbow digs into the pillow beside her, his hand propping his head up, and with eyes that have always seen straight through her, he searches her face.

"What's wrong?"

A loud snort of laughter rips through her throat, breaking past her lips quicker than she can smother the awkward noise, but she tries anyway, burying her face into his bicep, the strong line of his muscle hard against her mouth.

For a moment she's tempted to scrape her teeth across his flesh, sneak her hands beneath his boxers and distract him from the answers that he seeks.

But their kids are right _there_, and she's not prepared to shut the door on them.

And she probably shouldn't avoid Rick by using sex either... It's never worked before, she usually ends up just as broken, nothing fixed.

"Something's... _off_."

"Off?" His fingers tangle in her hair, urging her to turn, but she resists, the warmth of his body soothing against her forehead. "I know I've been struggling a little to keep up, what with being shot, and then smacking my head, but isn't everything _off_?"

She opens her mouth, the sarcasm perched, ready to fly out. He deserves more though, and she pulls back, twisting to stare up at his face.

Does she tell him what gnaws at the lining of her stomach? The worry that's hitching the beat of her heart?

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The silence settles over the two of them, a thick blanket, and as the war continues inside her, Rick slumps onto the bed, his palm rubbing his shirt where it hides the bandage, the bullet wound that - thankfully - has been healing well.

He was shot.

He nearly died.

In that moment she would have done anything to save him, and she wraps her hands around that memory, holding on to the life preserver that it is.

"I want to meet with a handler, Rick. There's something about the meeting with Suzanne that doesn't add up… Something about the Center's absence tonight that doesn't add up."

Pushing himself further up the bed, he stares at the wall opposite them, his eyes flickering back and forth, searching for something she can't see.

"The story doesn't make sense." He scrapes his fingers through his hair, a groan escaping as he drops his hand, and she shuffles up his chest, inspecting his scalp for more damage.

"There's no story, Rick. It's the circumstances that are not making sense. Why Portland? Why both of us? Why-"

"There's always a story, Kate. The whys are the story. How many years have we been stocking best sellers? Reading best sellers? They have one thing in common… they tell a good story."

She lifts the corner of her shirt, dabbing the drops of blood rising from the edge of his wound, a scab dislodged with his fingers. What's the story here? What are the elements that don't fit together?

"Okay then, _babe._" She ignores his snort, the way he pokes the strip of bare skin under her ribs as she continues cleaning his broken skin. "Tell me a good story."

His thumb ghosts up and over each ridge of her side before he slides down under the dip of her breast, her shirt dancing with his actions, and she shivers at the contact, hitching a leg over his. Sitting on top of his thighs, she arches her hips forward, the solid stretch of him underneath her creating a haze within her mind.

What were they talking about?

"My story, Rick?"

"Right." His hand falls away from her chest, his fingers cupping her rear, and she rocks back and away from what she really wants to be doing. "The story. The story starts with-"

"Your behavior. Suzanne asked if I had noticed any changes in your behavior and I said that you were just being sweet to me because you wanted to get laid more."

His mouth opens, eyes springing wide, and she grinds her hips into his at the shocked and slightly outraged expression contorting his face.

"Katherine Castle. I never." His ass bucks off the bed, his body hitting her perfectly between her thighs and she arches an eyebrow. "Well, maybe a little. But that wasn't it. The reason for the flowers, the… for everything that I started doing, you know that, right?"

She lowers her arms, studying the chip in her thumbnail, his question hitting far too close to the ones trapped inside her heart. What were they? What _are _they?

"In the bathroom, when you first told me about Helen, about the secret that you'd been keeping for all those years… It hurt. It hurt that you didn't trust me, didn't love me the way that I've always loved you."

Swallowing she attempts to rid herself of the rising tide of tears, the ache lacing his words slicing straight through her.

"But, Kate, as I lay in bed that night, I realized that, for too many years now, I haven't showed you my love, I haven't been giving you any reason _to _trust me. I remember at the start of us, trying to find your heart, trying to get to know you but there was this wall, and I kept hitting it." His hands snake around and up her torso, the tips of his fingers drifting across her lips, and she closes her eyes, unable to face him as he speaks to the truth of them.

"I smacked into that wall so many times, Kate, that I guess I just stopped trying to go through it. The kids were just babies, and we were juggling work with _work _and I stopped. And I'm sorry for that."

She shakes her head, opening her eyes to find his, the tears escaping, salty paths gliding down her cheeks.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry for all of this. For not letting you in when you were right there, for not seeing what was in front of me all along. I just wanted to protect myself, from the pain that comes with loving someone, when really… it didn't matter. When you were shot, it didn't matter."

Slipping her hand in the gap around his neck, sliding under his shirt, she pauses next to the bandage below his clavicle, the heat of his skin reassuring her that he's here, he's alive.

"Kate, I love you, and you love my manly body and my wicked sense of humor, the rest will come. To quote some really famous person, 'the past is but the past of a beginning.'" He pushes against her chin, holding her face steady as they stare at each other. "Want to start a beginning with me?"

She lifts the back of her hand, wiping the lingering tears away, and, bending forward, she lowers her lips to his, a barely there kiss before she whispers into the cavern of his mouth, "I love you too. And I want nothing more but to start a new story with you."

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Jay's loud snore breaks them apart, her body arching away from Rick's as the reminder that they aren't alone crashes through the desire heating her veins, and she settles back onto her husband's thighs, shaking her fingers through her hair.

Focus, Kate.

"Putting our story aside for a moment, what were you going to say before…" She waves a hand between them, attempting to get them back on track.

"Right, my behavior, but was it the change toward you that Suzanne was talking about? Or was it the sneaking around? Ducking out of work? Leaving the house early in the morning? Shaking loose any tail I spotted? I was careful, and I know they didn't follow me when I was gathering everything we needed. But the fact that I was doing that on the sly-"

"It sounds more like you were having an affair, Rick. That the sweet gestures were a sign of your guilt."

Again shock and indignation twist his features and she coasts her hand across his forehead, smoothing at the wrinkles.

"You weren't. But from their perspective, it could have appeared that way."

"But, Kate, how does that fit into the story? Why would the Center line up a fake job all the way in Portland just to… what? Put me on a ship? They could have done that from the city."

Pressing her palms into her eyes, the sparks of light flaring in the dark, she turns the misshaped bits of the puzzle over and over.

"Suzanne wanted us both there, made a point about it being a second honeymoon. But if it was about getting rid of you, wouldn't it have been easier for me to stay at home? Why did they want me to see you being dragged away to Russia? Why risk facing both of us?"

Nothing makes sense, and the throbbing that began between her thighs creeps higher, cooling down and settling at the base of her neck, no longer pleasant, no longer wanted.

There really is only one way for them to get answers and that's to go to the source.

"It comes back to the fact that we need a meeting." She drops her hands to her husband's shoulders as he jerks beneath her, continues before he can voice his protests. "An armed meeting, a careful one. I go in and you watch from close by, we have the sniper rifle in the office, I have the hand guns... We can do this, Rick."

If she says it with conviction then it will be true... Either that or she's about to make a meeting with the devil.

At least she has her husband looking out for her. At least she has his love.

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Thank again with extra hugs to those who offer their sweet support for my words, you create smiles each time xoxo Two more to go!

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for their great beta work and friendship xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	14. Chapter 14

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Motherland

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On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe.

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Chapter Fourteen

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"I'm going in, Kate. No arguments. You did the house, and I can't... I can't wait like that again."

She angles her head away from staring at the kids in the car, where they sit not so patiently. They've parked a block away from the book store, away from the weapons that they need to meet with a handler, and, opening her mouth, she meets Rick's gaze, ignoring his request.

"No. I know your shoulder is feeling better, I know you can handle yourself. But if something happens-" Her gaze drifts back toward Alexis and Jay; her future and her heart innocently remain behind and unaware of what is happening. "They need you, babe. You would know how to keep them... whole, intact. I couldn't do it, couldn't be that person for them. Please. Let me go in there. Let me be the one to handle the Center if they're waiting inside."

She has the easier job, and she's selfish to ask him to wait again, but she'd be no good if it all went wrong. The shootout in Portland, his declaration of love, their promise of a new beginning has done more than shaken her, somehow it's ripped her to pieces, and the segments aren't fitting back together the same way.

She's changed.

"Kate-"

"I won't beg, not for this." She winks as she tilts her head toward him, and his face flushes, his tongue tracing his bottom lip. "But do this for me. Let me go in."

His features drop, his broad shoulders hunching, and she smoothes the furrow of his forehead with the tip of her finger.

"Rick?"

"Twenty minutes. If you're not back by then I'll zip-tie the kids to a pole and come for you."

Her chest shakes as she suppresses the chuckle at his description, even if he never would, but the honesty of how torn he is about the situation is loud and clear, and her amusement dies a quick death.

To be vulnerable is to hurt. To feel emotions is to ask for pain. To-

"Kate. Twenty minutes. My heart won't take a second more." His palms cup her cheeks, holding her steady, and with a ghost of his lips against her own, he lays his forehead on top of hers. "I love you, don't ever forget it."

To be loved is everything.

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She shoves her hands further into the pockets of her coat, the cold metal from the handgun bumping her knuckles reassuringly as she exits. She shuts the back door quietly, her eyes scanning the back alleyway leading up to their bookstore. Everything is normal for a Sunday morning, the area deserted, and she shifts the duffel bag with her free hand, rearranging it on her shoulder, the weight of the sniper rifle tugging her to the left.

Again it's all too easy, and she pauses, the sensation that had gripped her gut last night while at home squeezing her stomach once more.

She'd been in and out of the office in under ten minutes, emptying it of the four weapons that they'd stored there for emergencies, throwing the cash that she'd kept in the false drawer of her desk into the bag as well, and now, on the edge of escaping, she lingers.

A shadow lengthens where the street stands at the end of the alleyway, and she breathes through her nose, her finger sliding around the trigger of her handgun.

The eggshells she's been walking on crack under her feet. Finally.

"I know you're there, you might as well come out and get this over with." There's confidence propping up her demand, even if there's none left within her.

Alexis. Jay. Rick.

She has reasons to fight, fight with everything she has, and the knowledge fills her spine with cement, lifts her chin an inch, narrows her eyes as she glares and awaits her reckoning.

"Really, Kate? How clichéd of you."

The click of heels against the road drops her stare, the sight of Jessica strolling from behind the large bin rocking her back. Of all the people the Center could have sent to finish the job, why the fuck did they have to pick her friend?

"I wish I could say it's good to see you again, Jessica, but…" Kate lifts an eyebrow, shrugging her right shoulder even as she curls the fingers of her left hand into her palm.

"I just thought I would drop by. After all, you left so suddenly the other morning, I didn't get a chance to say goodbye." Jessica twists her lips, taking a step forward, and the shadows shift across her face, creating edges that Kate's never seen before. "By the way, how is Rick doing? Where is he?"

Her chest deflates at her friend's questions, the sigh inaudible as the relief that her husband and children are okay - for now - rushes through her body.

"I have no idea. He-" Playing dumb isn't going to work, not on another agent, but there has to be some way to steer Jessica away from the truth. "We went our separate ways. Back in Portland. He thought it would be safer to split up."

Surprise lights Jessica's features, her eyes bright with - delight? - her lips stretching wide in a grin, and Kate cants to her left, lowering the bag slowly onto the ground as ice cold water rushes down her back.

Something is very wrong here. Something is very _off_ here.

"Oh, Kate. Poor, poor, Kate." The giggle in Jessica's voice creates icicles that pierce at her skin. "You have no idea do you? I'm sorry to tell you, but he's having an affair. At this moment, he's probably with some skank of a whore, fucking her brains out."

What the hell?

Indignation ignites in the pit of her stomach and she lunges forward, the truth that he's currently waiting in the car with their children overtaken by the red haze of outrage, the niggling voice that never truly disappears, hissing that maybe he doesn't love her, couldn't love her, and it's louder than his earlier whispered words of adoration.

"He is not having an affair. You know nothing. Nothing, Jessica!"

"I know that he's been sneaking out on you. From work. From your bed at night. Clearly he doesn't want you, Kate. But don't worry, I'll take good care of him when you're gone."

Her feet come to a standstill at Jessica's statement, her body jerking back at the glee bouncing her friend like a child standing before a candy store, and Kate inhales, pushing the jealous fog from her mind to actually hear what is being said.

Jessica knows. She knows that Rick was leaving at odd hours, and while she's completely off the mark about the whys, how would she get that information?

And more importantly, what in the world does she mean when she says that _she'll _be taking care of Rick?

"Why would _you_ be anywhere near _my _husband?"

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Jessica studies her nails in the strip of light peeking through two buildings, her body language screaming the fact that she's in control, unworried. But she doesn't appear to have a gun, both her hands are free, and Kate tilts her head, narrowing her eyes at the math that just doesn't add up.

There are so many ways to play this, to manipulate and contort this situation, but really she just wants to get the hell out of here and get back to Rick… before her twenty minutes are up.

"Why are you here, Jessica? Because if it's to kill me you're doing a shit job of it."

A guillotine blade sweeps down Jessica's face, removing with it any lightness that once existed, replaced now with a stoniness more suited for a gargoyle and Kate slides her foot back an inch, fighting the urge to turn and run.

"I'm here because you fucked up. I'm here because you were supposed to wave goodbye to your husband and let him leave with Moth- with Suzanne. I'm here because for some reason I have two dead bodies instead of Ri-_ck_."

Jessica's voice cracks, the venom leaving her mouth and striking Kate in the face.

Oh. Shit.

"You want my husband?" There are a million questions bubbling up, and she sorts through to the most important. "Suzanne and Samuel were never going to transport Rick back to Russia, were they, Jessica? They were going to take him to you? And you were going to do what? Hold him hostage in the basement? Keep him chained to your bed?"

She sucks in a lungful of air, her hands shaking at the idea of anyone taking her husband, touching her husband. "You were our friend, a fellow agent, a person we went to when we needed help. I-" Kate slips her eyes closed for a moment at the betrayal. "Suzanne was our handler, and together you were plotting to destroy us?"

Jessica clicks her tongue as she shrugs her right shoulder, but her indifference is contradicted as she reaches behind her, pulling out a gun, the muzzle pointing directly at Kate.

"We never wanted to destroy you. He doesn't want to be with you anymore and I-" Jessica huffs, a crack appearing in her façade. "Troy and his new _wife _are taking _my_ kids to Washington. _My_ kids. So Mo- Suzanne suggested that I move on. A new husband. New kids. And since Rick no longer wanted you and yours, he was the most logical choice."

Blinking over and over, Kate attempts to remove the stunned sensation swaying her into stupidity, because Jessica has to be fucking kidding her, right?

"You really thought that would work? That Suzanne would just bring him over to your house, explain that he was to be your new husband, and he would be- what? Happy to be rid of us and fall into your arms?"

This is insane.

"He doesn't love you, Kate. And I could make him happy, unlike you. I know how to take care of a man."

"Really? Is that why Troy left? Or did he just see how bat-shit crazy you are and he ran for his own safety?"

The gun in Jessica's hand trembles, the fury in her eyes darkening the normally clear green, and Kate swallows the panic that rises up her throat.

Pissing off the person aiming a gun at her is probably not the best idea she's ever had.

"Kate, you have no idea. _No_ idea. And it would have worked except for you. You must have done something, screwed up the plan, and now- You killed them. Both of them were found in the building, a single shot each. You did that. I know! And now…"

Jessica's body stills, her arm no longer quivering, the weapon unmoving as it points directly at Kate, and she breathes slowly through her nose, angling the concealed handgun in her pocket toward Jessica.

A blind shot won't be as accurate but it's better than no shot at all.

Squeezing the trigger, the gun bucks within her fingers, the sound loud even though it's hidden inside her coat, and a tear forms, sliding down her face, as she hopes that she hit her target.

Hopes almost just as much that she doesn't.

How did her life become this?

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Thank you again for staying for the ride. Can hardly believe just one more to go!

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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for all their mad beta skills xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	15. Chapter 15

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Motherland

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On the surface they are living the American dream, but as the sun goes down, so does their façade. An Alternative Universe.

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Chapter Fifteen

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"The kids are in their beds, Kate. Although Alexis is not letting what's happened rest." Rick perches himself on the edge of the bathtub, his head falling into his palms, and she wipes her hand on the towel hanging beside her, using her semi-dry fingers to rub circles on to his back.

"It will wait until the morning. She'll just have to continue wondering for a bit longer."

There are no answers though, not unless they tell the truth, explain who they are, what they do, and Kate falls back into the hot water, the memory of this morning rearing its ugly head again.

The way Jessica had fallen in a heap.

Rick's panicked expression as he'd rounded the corner of the alleyway.

Lifting the body of who had been, for so many years, her friend, into the dumpster.

"Kate, stop replaying it over in your mind, you'll just give yourself a headache."

"I already have one."

His thumb ghosts across her forehead, drifting down to linger on each of her eyelids as she closes them under his touch.

"I can get you a glass of wine? There's that red that you like?"

Lifting the corner of her mouth, she attempts to smile, to show her gratitude that he's here, trying to make the pain better, but what she really wants is some good quality vodka and a tumbler that never ends.

No wonder her father turned to alcohol when it all became too much.

"Did I ever tell you, Rick, why I became a KGB agent? Why I chose to come here and marry a man I'd never met, just because it was part of the cover?"

He has no idea, her questions are theoretical, but as she opens her eyes, he lists his head to one side, ready and waiting.

"No."

"When I was nineteen my mother was killed, murdered by Americans in an alleyway. They said it was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that she was caught in the middle of one of their operations gone wrong."

She'd tried to get her hands on the documents surrounding the case, had walked a dangerous line with officers both at the time, and as an agent, trying to gain any information she could on the… _tragedy_, but she'd been blocked at every turn.

She'd then redirected her anger toward the country responsible; every life she'd taken justified when compared to what they had done to her family.

"Oh, Kate."

He falls into the tub, the water sloshing over the sides as he suddenly enters, and she huffs out a laugh, even as a tear breaks free from the corner of her eye, a sob tightening her chest.

"You're still dressed, babe."

Shaking his head, he ignores her, twisting until he blankets her body, and she rearranges her legs until he fits – kind of – against her chest, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"I'm sorry, Kate. Sorry that you went through that." His lips dot kiss after kiss against her skin, up and across her face, descending onto her mouth, tender brushes that steal what little breath she has left.

"It's-" It's not okay, but how does she explain that it led her here, to him, to their children. A life that is almost everything she could have wished for. "I had this rage inside, this desire for justice and it burned, consuming every part of me, but…"

The last week has extinguished that inferno and she's left standing in the ashes, unable to work out where she goes next. What good is a world with justice if the price is the family she has now? If it destroys the people who are still alive and love her?

"But what, Kate? What do you have now?"

Silence stretches, her answers jumbled inside of her, a mess that she can't seem to straighten, and he pulls back, his head thrashing side to side as she reaches for his withdrawing form.

"I'm here. Just- wet clothes."

Oh, right. Ugh.

He strips, a grunt escaping as he struggles with his shirt, and she sneaks her fingers under the hem, helping it up and over his head, his face grimacing, the red skin around the bullet wound pulling with his actions.

"Does it hurt? I can get you some painkillers?"

"No, I'm okay, great even."

Standing, he tugs his pants and boxers down, the water raining on her head and chest, the droplets increasing as he pitches the wet clothes onto the floor beside the bath, and she grins, slipping her tongue between her lips as she eyes him slowly.

"I would say you're most definitely on the way to being great."

The bath seems to shrink as he settles himself back down, his eyebrows elevated high in response. Bathtub sex is fraught with danger and unsuccessful outcomes, but he squeezes himself on top of her chest, his hips bumping hers as he pushes his palms onto the bottom of the bath by her sides, his biceps flexing as he strains to hover above.

"You didn't finish your sentence, Kate. And I'm not letting it go unsaid. Not anymore."

She nods – he's right – but what she has to say hasn't quite come together, and she dusts her hand down his spine, the planes of his muscles hard yet soft under her fingers.

A lot like him.

"I will. Can I ask first, why? Why did you end up here? How did you become an agent?"

How is the sweet man who still places kisses on their sleeping children also a ruthless agent?

"My father. I never knew him growing up, and one day when I was in college, at Lomonosov University, he appeared out of nowhere. I'd written a book and it did okay, and I guess he recognized my name, my real one, or maybe my mother's, and he tracked me down." The heaviness in his explanation closes her mouth even as the questions beg to spring forth – he wrote a book? He sold copies of a book? – and instead she finds the corner of his mouth with her lips, hopefully imparting some strength for him to continue.

And he does.

"He was an agent too, made it all sound so… glamorous, so righteous, and I gave up my past for what I thought was a future with my father. It was something I had never wanted – him in my life – until he was there, and suddenly it was all I could think about."

"Have we worked with him?" The idea that they could have done so without Rick mentioning it cuts deep within her heart; that he would hide this information from her, that he would-

Oh, this is what he felt when she'd told him her secret about Helen.

"No. No, I haven't heard from him since I boarded the plane for America. He clapped me on the back and told me to make him proud." Rick puffs out a snort, his head falling to her right breast, and she flattens the strands of his hair spiking with the water, drifting her fingers across his scalp as she attempts to soothe the open wound obvious in his voice.

She understands that confusion and pain all too well.

"Where do we go from here, Rick? The Center was never involved, have no clue about anything judging by the way Jessica talked, so I guess we just go to work as normal tomorrow?"

The thought of trying to be the person she was before this happened rolls her stomach, and her hands tremble at the notion that she'll be putting her life, his life, at risk the way they used to.

All for a cause she doesn't really believe in anymore.

Emotions. _They are for the weak._

Feelings. _They will destroy the mission._

Love. _Useless._

Their mantra was all a lie; her emotions gave her the strength to stand up for her husband, her feelings kept her fighting for their love, a love that brings lightness to her soul, a smile to her face, a love that will never be useless.

"What do you want to happen tomorrow, Kate? Because the new identities…"

Her gaze snaps toward his, her mouth opening of its own accord, at the treason that he's suggested, but-

They could do it, leave and start afresh. Granted, they would need to come clean to their children, explain to Alexis and Jay who they really are. American children born to Russian spies. But while the truth will sting and divide them initially, maybe as a family they will grow stronger with the honesty.

With the knowledge that their parents loved each other so much they were willing to let go of everything for a better future.

"You drive pretty badly, Rick, a car crash was bound to happen one day."

His eyes widen, whether at her insult or her subtext, she's not quite sure. Then he nods.

"I do like to drive rough, but… bodies."

Knocking her forehead into his gently, she grunts in agreement. There would need to be bodies left behind, evidence that they all died.

"The oven could blow up?" Rick's mouth twists in the corner before catching a kiss from her lips. "My mother nearly did that cooking the two of us dinner one night."

"But… bodies."

He falls onto her, pushing her to the base of the tub, her thighs stretching further apart at his actions.

"You're going to shove me under the water if you keep going, Rick."

His torso arches up, his stare slamming into hers, his eyes reflecting the same thought that has frozen her still.

"A boat-"

His mouth steals the rest of her sentence, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip, and she encourages him in, her tongue hard against his, her love for her husband setting her on fire.

Their treason, their future, sealed with a kiss.

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Kate pauses at the car door, her fingers wrapped around the handle, the shadows appearing large than normal as the sun continues to slip below the horizon.

Rick watches from afar, concealed with the sniper rifle, even though they'd both agreed that there was little risk in meeting with the Center, and she drops her head, _doesn't_ look in his direction lest she give his position away.

Pulling, she opens the door, dropping into the passenger side of the bench seat as she lifts her chin to face the driver.

"Katherine, or do you prefer Kate? Hi, I'm Amanda, your new handler." The brunette grins in the dusk, thrusting her hand between them, and Kate pauses, shock making her stupid. Amanda? Her new handler? Is she for real?

"I- Huh?"

The perkiness from beside her steps up a notch, the woman – damn she can't be more than a year or two older than herself – bouncing on her rear.

"Sorry, it's probably a bit overwhelming, but a few weeks ago Suzanne requested a reassignment- don't worry it had nothing to do with her work here, her daughter is in Portland and she wanted to be closer."

Kate's head knocks into the window behind her, the final piece of the puzzle surrounding last week's horrible events shifting into place.

Mother.

It's what Jessica had slipped on when they'd been talking in the alleyway, the reason why Suzanne was involved in the mess to begin with. She was _her_ _mother_.

So much for their family being indebted to Kate; in the end the whole lot of them were out to destroy her life.

"Oh, is that allowed? To move? The Center doesn't have any issue with that?"

The blank look on Amanda's face speaks to her intelligence, and Kate waves a hand, dismissing the questions.

It hardly matters to her anymore.

"It's fine. We're glad to work with you, Amanda."

"Oh me too, I've heard so much about you, and Rick. You two excel amid your fellow agents."

Smiling, she hopes it comes across as one, Kate nods, her fingers tapping on her thigh.

The rest of her life hinging on what she's about to announce.

"Thank you, we strive to serve our country. Anyway, the reason I called for a meeting is-" Breathe, Kate, it will be fine. "It's Rick's birthday soon, April fool's day, and we've planned a surprise trip away for him next week. Figured he will never expect it so early."

Amanda claps her hands together, jumping on the seat as she grins, her intensity knocking Kate back into the window again.

"Ooooh, where are you taking him? Somewhere exciting?"

"Um, kind of. We're renting a sailboat, setting off the coast and up to the Hamptons. He loves the water."

Amanda nods in agreement, enthusiasm painting her face in a way Kate has never seen on any of their previous handlers. For a moment, she's almost sorry; working with this woman could be… fun. She pushes the thought down, matching Amanda's smile as she lets genuine joy spill onto her own features.

Sailing will be wonderful.

An open ocean before them, the spacious sailboat she's rented is perfect for Rick's birthday experience.

And when it explodes, there won't be any bodies.

She hopes.

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The End

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My apologies for not having the chance to reply individually to the last chapter, I've gone back to school at night and the process of this combined with work has been... Ouch!

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Thank you all for coming along for this little odd and AU journey, your words of support and loving threats left a smile and an evil giggle each chapter.

Truly you are the best xoxo

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To Jo and Jamie, there are no words for you two just everlasting hugs xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo.


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